


Peculiar

by DeepShadows2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Infant Death, Infertility, Masturbation in Shower, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Slow Build, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 85
Words: 481,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepShadows2/pseuds/DeepShadows2
Summary: It's been seven and a half years since the Battle at Hogwarts.For the last six and half years, Severus Snape has been living a rather uneventful life as the DADA teacher and Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts. That all changed when Hermione Granger-Weasley gave an interview to Witch Weekly that she was seeking a divorce and then in two days showing up at Hogwarts looking and behaving drastically different. Minerva has appointed her a post as the Muggle Studies Professor for now. Suddenly Severus felt himself getting drawn in and wrapped up in the affairs of a woman he had desperately been avoiding for those six years. He knew there was more to this divorce than met the eye, and he was determined to uncover why the woman he remembered when he woke up from death's door had changed so much. What he would uncover would change his view of her, and he would be forced to admit a secret he long since buried and given up on.But first, Severus had to determine why she was being so peculiar.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Viktor Krum/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 3614
Kudos: 1376
Collections: His is the Snark That Heals and Hers is the Heart That Holds, Shimai’s Outstanding List





	1. Have you heard?

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response, and recovery, and alcoholism. There are references to implied noncon in the past. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also ron bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism and a lot of other issues.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. At the top of each chapter, it will tell you whose POV it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

“Didn’t you read it?”

“No, I thought it was rubbish. Honestly, Weasley-Granger’s not the type, and Skeeter has had it out for her for years.”

“It’s in Witch Weekly. Romilda Vane wrote a four-page dissection of the break-up.”

“Well, Ms.Vane is shrewd in her work, she has a nose for it.”

“That’s what I thought. What do you suppose happened?”

“I thi-”

“Ms. Bletchly, Ms. Reinold’s, since you have decided that I am wasting my time trying to teach this lesson, please share with the class what is so captivating?” His voice had quite an effect on the young ladies, as they both paled and stammered at him. Drawing his arms up across the black wool of his frockcoat, he rose an eyebrow ever so slightly, demonstrating that he was, indeed, serious.

The pale girl in Ravenclaw’s bronze and blue stuttered. “Uh…, erm…”

“Ms. Bletchly, I am curious, have you lost the ability to speak coherently, or are you furthermore, wasting my time?”

“We were discussing that Hermione Granger-Weasley’s leaving her husband. It’s all over the prophet and Witch Weekly.” The young Gryffindor beside her piped up.

Severus Snape rose both his eyebrows and offered the young ladies a withering glare. “And this will help you pass your N.E.W.T.S. in which manner. You will keep your idle chatter out of this classroom, or you both will be relieved from this class. I don’t think Ravensdorm Mastery Academy will accept someone without an O in N.E.W.T. Defense against the Dark Arts. Do you, Ms. Reinold’s?”

The Gryffindor lowered her head and shook her head. “No, they will not. I apologize, Professor.”

“50 points from each of your houses for this disruption, and I want 2 feet of parchment covering today’s spell and what can happen to the target should they not PAY ATTENTION. On my desk tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Severus turned from the two girls, assured he’d not hear a peep from them for the foreseeable future. He leveled his gaze at the rest of his 7th years. “The rest of you, get your partners, and let’s hope you were listening.”

Sweeping to his desk, he watched as the students went quietly about their work, the two girls working head down, only looking at each other. Anyone who looked as if they were going to do more than ask a partner question was met with his black gaze. This spell was not deadly but could be harmful if these little idiots botched it up.

Speaking of little idiots, his mind briefly swept over the revelation. Perhaps there was trouble in paradise, and the Golden Trio weren’t having as grand as a go of it as it was before portrayed. Not that Granger leaving the boy surprised him. The intellectual incompatibility alone would have made him think she’d not married the ginger buffoon.

He shook the topic from his thoughts. The personal affairs of his former students, even and especially the blasted insufferable know it all who saved his life, were not his concern.

Two hours came and went with no incident. It seems Circe blessed him with students who did not wish to lose their limbs this year. Moving through the partnered teens, his corrections were blessedly minute and few between. “Clean up your areas and leave. I expect an essay on both the spell and the counterspell on my desk by Friday.”

Once the students left, he did the same, setting wards and heading to the great hall. His mind was on lunch and his new book from Flourish and Blotts on the theory of intent-based brewing. Severus had put away any thoughts of Hermione blasted Granger, and did not expect to hear anything about her for the rest of the day. It seemed, however, even with the war over and the woman graduating, that the universe had other plans for him.

“Good afternoon Severus. Might I have a word?” Minerva interrupted his thoughts, and he slowed his long gait so that the witch could keep up, his head nodded in agreement to speaking to her.

Things between them had repaired during his recovery. She’d been the second face he saw by his bed, watching him as he fought the snake’s venom. The first, of course, had to be the girl hero herself. Minerva had been his advocate when he could not talk, she vouched for him, and she put her reputation on the line to make sure that no one caused him harm while he was vulnerable. He hated it at first, but over the year it took him to recover, she became someone he considered reliable and a friend.

“What is on your mind, Headmistress?” His double baritone low in case this was a matter others should not be privy to. The woman was smiling, but her forehead was pinched as if she were conflicted and elated. It was an odd look to be sure.

She clasped her hands in front of as she walked alongside him. “I trust you’ve read the news.”

He rose an eyebrow, curious, and a touch befuddled. Which news was Minerva referring to?

“You haven’t.” She pursed her lips and then let out a breath. “Mrs. Granger-Weasley is separating from Mr. Weasley.”

He shook his head for a moment as if trying to align this conversation since he had no idea what this could have to do with him or Minerva for that matter. Honestly, did people think his life revolved around keeping track of the Golden Trio and their love lives?

“I had heard something about it, what of it? Is the Order being divided into their divorce for custody? If so, I demand to be released.” He tried to instill a touch of humor to his tone, if only for Minerva’s benefit.

“Severus! You are horrid.” She sighed, her hands falling to her sides. “No, nothing like that. Mrs. Gran-, Hermione, is also leaving her position at the Ministry. She has expressed an interest in working on more scholarly and educational driven projects.”

He tucked the edge of his lips up in a smirk, smug that he had been correct, and it had been intellectual differences to break up the fantasy marriage. “Such as?”

“She’s applied for the Muggle Studies position. You know that Professor Anadora will be leaving at winter break to have the child and settle down with her husband.” Minerva intimated, and Severus could easily discern that this information was meant to test his reaction to the notion of working with the Golden Girl. He decided at that moment that he had no real opposition to the arrangement. Muggle Studies was in the other wing of the castle, so aside from staff meetings, meals, and Quidditch, he’d rarely see the witch.

“Muggle Studies is not something I would think the ‘Brightest Witch of her Age’ would desire to teach.” He offered his tone even to allow Minerva to interpret his mood on her own.

She nodded. “Precisely my thoughts. Which is why I hired her to teach it this year alone with the agreement that she would take over Arithmancy next year for Vector.”

Arithmancy was a subject that was more suited to the girl, but it put her classroom much closer to his. He may even pass her in the hall between periods. That could be problematic for his nerves.

“And you are speaking to me about this why, Headmistress.” He was Deputy Headmaster, but she rarely consulted him on the filling of positions unless she wanted to determine if they were a threat or not.

“Because Severus, I thought you should know she’d be here. I know the last time you two spoke was not an amicable situation, and I’d like you to be prepared. Though I doubt that will happen again. There’s a distinct change in her.” Minerva worried her lip, a tick that told him she had more concerns, and she was debating addressing them.

He stopped abruptly, turning to face her fully. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Headmistress, can you please relay why you are really addressing this with me. I suspect you need something from me outside of my normal duties.”

She stopped as well, and her shoulders dropped a touch, and she nodded. “I do. I am privy to some of the details of her divorce. While I am wand bound to discretion, I have a favor to ask.”

Ah, there it was, something was amiss, and he was going to have to clean up after the twit.

“A favor means I have the ability to decline, do I have such a luxury?”

Her green eyes narrowed just a touch, and he could see that he touched a nerve. “I have never forced you to do anything. You can, of course, decline, and then I will have to see to it myself, regardless of the nature of the danger.”

That caused him to tilt his head. Danger was something he understood, and yet, he didn’t quite grasp why this situation would have it hanging overhead.

“I’m listening.”

He watched a change in the woman at that moment. The soft grandmother turned in the woman that he saw on the other end of a wand, hardened, angry, and betrayed. It was a look that haunted him in his dreams of the fateful night of the Battle seven years ago. When she did speak, it was quiet but carried weight.

“If Mr. Weasley shows up on these grounds. On anything other than official business from the Ministry, with a seal in his hand, hex him. Eject him from these grounds, and I’d prefer if you made him think twice about returning.”

Now that was interesting.

“Are you insinuating that Mr. Weasley is a threat to his soon to be ex-wife?” His interest was piqued, and the look in her eyes told him that he was correct in her assumption and that she was a lioness protecting her own. It was a look that he had seen on her face when they tried to take him to Azkaban before his trial. It meant she was one not to be messed with on this.

“I am insinuating that I am a threat to him if I see him before you do, and you know what Azkaban can do to old bones.”

He nodded. He was going to ask why, but not now. Not while the witch was full of Gryffindor pride and rage. Not while she was wand bound. But as soon as he could, he would ask what had inspired this ire in her. But first, he would do his research. What would Hermione blasted Granger have to fear from a man that Severus was sure had to put his pants on one leg at a time in the morn. He was sure he could speculate, but that was dangerous. Whatever it was, it made Minerva mad enough to consider going to Azkaban for it.

“Understood. I will ensure that all within our walls are safe, you have my word.”

“As you always have. I thank you for your discretion in this matter. Professor Granger will be here tomorrow to settle and understudy the month before the break.” Minerva seemed to soften again, the grandmother back and the lioness gone. “Now, I am famished, shall we to lunch?”

“Yes, Headmistress.” He turned to walk again.

“And Severus?” Her voice halted him again, and he turned her head to look at her.

“Yes?”

She gave him a small smile and touched his shoulder as she caught up to him. “She’s not the same as the girl who was here. I’m not asking for you to be her friend, only that you perhaps meet Hermione Granger, the woman, before you treat her like Hermione Granger, the child.”


	2. You can never go home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

She should feel nervous. There should be some knot in her stomach, some butterflies, a twisting of glee and apprehension.

Instead, there was nothing but resignation and fatigue.

Like a warrior coming home, but knowing that it wasn’t their home anymore.

It was like that one song by the Moody Blues, ‘Home, sweet, home... You can never go home anymore.. ‘

The castle lay before her dazzling on its snow-covered grounds. She stood there in a grey cloak, her beaded bag holding all her dearest possessions. At the gate, she felt like she was in a liminal space. Half a step of nothingness was all that lay between what she was running away from, and where she was running. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, wavering between those instances before her thoughts were interrupted.

“Madam Granger, are you experiencing difficulty with the wards?” The voice was immediately recognizable, especially with the way the words seemed to challenge and demean at the same time.

Severus Snape stood before her, watching her expectantly.

He looked better than she last saw his; his skin was not as pale, his cheeks not as gaunt. She imagined under the high black collar; the snake wound was nothing more than a series of scars. He looked more alive than she had ever seen him. Strange, how the years seemed good to him. She wished she could say that was the same for herself.

No, she didn’t want to think of that, she told herself as emotions stirred of pain and betrayal. It would have to be him who greeted her; the fates liked reminding her of her failings.

“Are you rendered incapable of speech?” He asked her, shaking her again from her thoughts, and this time she exhaled deeply, shaking her head. She realized now that her fingers and nose were numb and her face burned.

“No, Sir, I was simply lost in thought. My apologies.” She bowed her head, breaking from his gaze.

“Yes, well, your presence was expected over an hour ago, and the Headmistress fears you’ve decided to turn her down. If you are done daydreaming, I will escort you to her now.” He said, turning on his heel.

Hermione noticed that his words didn’t have as much bite. Then again, what could his words do to her now? She snorted derisively at herself and looked at her feet, willing them to take that step out of the in-between’s safety.

“I don’t wish to grow old waiting, Mrs. Granger.”

Her head snapped up, and she took a step forward to correct him.

“Miss. Miss Granger.” Her tone was definitive, and she felt a touch of anger flare-up.

His step did not falter. “I wasn’t aware your divorce was finalized.”

Hermione caught up to his long stride, having to take two steps for every one of his. “It is not.”

“Then, I do not see the error in my address.” His words were clipped, tight, and she was surprised that she felt the sting of them.

“No, I supposed you wouldn’t.” She offered quietly, the anger deflating as quickly as it came, the cold nothingness refilling her.

It was easier to keep up with him when she was thinking of only her movement. It was easier to think about her feet crunching in the snow than anything else as they walked. The walk seemed like an eternity of silence. Yet it was only a handful of minutes from the gate to the doors.

“Hermione, there you are.”

She looked up to see the smile of her former head of house. Hermione returned her own weak smile, stepping forward to hug the older woman softly. The touch was brief and barely manageable, but Hermione allowed it with a slight twitch. “Professor McGonagall, it is so good to see you again.”

“Minerva, dear, I think you’ve earned that. Now, come, let me get you settled, and we can go over anything you may need.” Minerva said, tucking her arm around Hermione’s. “Severus, thank you for retrieving her, you have my gratitude.”

Hermione looked to the black-clad man and watched as he nodded to them in his departure. “Headmistress. Mrs. Granger.”

She was wrong; his words could still cut her to a million pieces with a well-placed syllable. She gracelessly untucked her arm from Professor McGonagall’s under the guise of adjusting her bag and cloak.

“He hasn’t changed.” She murmured, and the wizened woman at her side shook her head, a softened smile directed at the back of the man walking away.

“He has, but in his own way. Come, I know you could use a cuppa as much as I could.”

She nodded, following the woman who had offered her a new life. “Tea sounds delightful.”

“I trust you had no difficulty getting here,” Minerva asked, and Hermione let out a breath, agreeing with a nod.

She knew what Minerva was asking, but didn’t dare speak more. It was still hard to vocalize, and she was still trying to adjust to it all.  
They fell into companionable silence, the sound of their footfalls on the stone easing Hermione’s nerves. She hadn’t noticed when the nervous feeling had finally crept into her stomach, but she was almost glad. It was something more than the tired wrung-out feeling.

Ascending the stairs to the Headmistress’s office, Hermione felt a pang of nostalgia. It’d been nearly seven and a half years since she’d climbed these stairs. Last time it was to invite the woman to her wedding personally. Now, it was to start over.

Inside, the room was full of warmth and cheer. While the desk and the paintings did not change, the trinkets did. There were cat figurines. Not like the gaudy things that Umbridge had cursed the place with, but stone watchers and bookends were holding well-used books together in groupings. The personal effects made it much easier for Hermione to relax as she sat down.

“How do you take your tea?” McGonagall asked, and Hermione smiled.

“Black, please.”

The woman had summoned tea when Hermione was observing, and she poured her a cup.

“Now, tell me, has anything else happened. I can’t imagine the Prophet and Witch Weekly helped at all.” Minerva asked, concern on her face as she took her seat in a high wingback chair that had a tartan throw over the back.

Hermione shook her head, taking a sip of the hot tea to bid her time before answering. It seared her lips, but she swallowed the burning liquid down, enjoying the heat as the bitter filled her mouth.

“I sent the information to Romilda myself. Skeeter caught wind that way. He did not react kindly.” Hermione finally offered, absently rubbing her neck. It still hurt, along with the back of her head. She was thankful the bruising was gone; she dreaded to see the look again from the woman before her. Minerva had looked like a woman ready to murder when Hermione first came here.

Minerva had thin lips now, sipping her tea, and Hermione could see the anger in her eyes. It was hard not to recoil, but she repeated to herself that it was not directed to her. “I see. Well, you won’t have to worry about him here, dear.”

She nodded. “I know. I appreciate what you are doing for me, truly. I-, I didn’t have anywhere else to turn, and I don’t think I would have made it another year.” Hermione admitted, and Minerva leaned forward, gently touching her hand where it held the cup.

“It is nothing. I only wish you’d come to me sooner.”

Hermione nodded, taking another sip. She wished she’d had the strength and the courage to come sooner too. Before everything got so bad, she closed her eyes, once again trying to determine the point where everything went to shit. Was it the first time she took him back, the second. Was it before they even got married, when he left them in the forest of Dean. She shuddered and exhaled, opening her eyes to prevent tears from threatening to crawl from the corners. This wasn’t the time to break down.

“Me too.”

The words were so quiet; she wasn’t even sure if she spoke them. The older woman nodded and offered her a biscuit.

“I think we will go over schedules tomorrow. How about I show you to your quarters and you can rest.” She offered, and Hermione nodded.

They were the quarters that Lupin had once occupied when he was a DADA professor. Minerva gave her a brief tour and then let her settle on her own. It was on the second floor, she could tell from the windows. The bedroom had two large windows and a small door. A balcony with a great view overlooking the grounds that was big enough for a chair and a small table was behind it. A queen-sized four-post bed sat in the center. There was a wardrobe to the side and a mirror along the wall. The bathroom was off the other side of the bedroom, and it did not feel closed in. Her sitting room had empty bookcases, a fireplace, two armchairs, and a desk. It was small, but she thought it suited her for a hideaway. That’s what this was—a hideaway from the storm of her past, her ruined fantasy.

She was worn to the bones, laid on the bed, and cast a shielding spell and alarm spell around her bed before succumbing to sleep.


	3. Notably Unusual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Of course, he would have to fetch the Golden Girl because she couldn't be arsed to walk into the school without an escort. After seeing Minerva pace for the 60th time, he gritted his teeth and moved for the door.

"I'll retrieve Mrs. Granger and assess if perhaps the wards are preventing her entry." 

That had to be it; otherwise, why would she stand at a gate for an hour in the snow. 

Sighing, he marched to the gate, the ground crunching under his dragon skin boots. He thanked his considerable warmth in this weather to the wool frockcoat and pants. Not that he was pleased to be out in it.

He saw her there, and on his approach, he wondered if the wards had halted her. She looked as if she were far away in her mind; her body unmoving save for her breath. As he grew closer, this did not change.

 _Blasted wards, we will have to look at them_ , he internally cursed.

He had a hard time, upon closer observation and proximity, believing that the woman before him was Hermione Granger-Weasley.

She was thinner, by the looks of it she was a stone or two underweight. Her complexion was pale, and her hair, the wild thing it had always been, seemed even unhealthily limp. It had been years since he'd seen the woman, and the contrast between then and now was disconcerting. Her eyes seemed haunted as she looked at the castle, and he cleared his throat to get her attention. It was really of no consequence to him how she looked between now and wartime he told himself.

Nothing. 

It seemed to him that she was not even aware of him at all. Peculiar. 

He spoke this time, loudly. "Madam Granger, are you experiencing difficulty with the wards?"

That seemed to rouse her, and her eyes refocused, looking at him intently.

However, her gaze went distant quickly, even with it still on him. She looked like she was both looking at him and through him. He was not fond of the sensation. Instead, he wanted to get into the warm castle, rather than stand here under her scrutiny. Hermione shook her head slightly as if she was trying to shake something from her mind.

He was growing impatient. "Are you rendered incapable of speech?"

Another shake of her head and an exhale that seemed like it was the breaking of some spell.

"No, Sir, I was simply lost in thought. My apologies." Her words were quiet, and that was never a word he would have used to describe the woman before him. He let it pass; it was not his business, nor did he want it to be his business.

"Yes, well, your presence was expected over an hour ago, and the Headmistress fears you've decided to turn her down. If you are done daydreaming, I will escort you to her now." He turned, fully expecting her to jump to attention and follow him.

He nearly growled when he heard that the insufferable know it all had yet to move.

"I don't wish to grow old waiting, Mrs. Granger." He snarled, hands shoved into his pockets, fingers around his wand. If she hesitated any longer, he was going to bring her along via a levitation spell.

However, when he said her name, she met his eyes again. 

There was the fire of the girl who simply could not bear to be wrong. She moved forward urgently. He realized that he was going to yell at her even to get her into the castle.

Merlin, how would being her colleague go?

"Miss. Miss Granger." She corrected. 

Ah, so that is a sore point. Very well.

"I wasn't aware your divorce was finalized." He quipped, walking at his pace to the castle, a glass of whiskey already on his mind.

Her reply was so quiet; he almost didn't hear her. "It is not." Peculiar.

"Then, I do not see the error in my address." He bit back, against her, and the cold on his nose.

"No, I supposed you wouldn't."

It was the last thing she said to him for the rest of the fifteen-minute walk up to the gate. Hermione Granger was quiet for fifteen minutes. He was sure now something was off; this was nearly inconceivable. This was the girl who could not even let him finish a question before her hand was up. Now she moved like a marionette, a step behind him and silent. For some reason, it uneased him, and he did not like to be uneasy. 

When they reached the warm entrance, Minerva greeted them, giving him an expression of gratitude as she hugged the young woman. That was when he noticed it. The flinch was almost imperceivable as Minerva touched her. But Severus realized that Hermione Granger was afraid. Afraid of what, he wasn't sure. This was a woman who had stared down Bellatrix and lived to tell the tale. What did the Golden Girl have to fear from Minerva? 

When he was dismissed, he offered a polite nod to them both. "Headmistress. Mrs. Granger." 

There, she did it again as Minerva grabbed her arm. It was a full-body flinch, and he saw in her eyes fear. Peculiar. He continued to walk, quietly listening to the women as they discussed him. As soon as he was out of sight, he stepped to the side, watching them. Something was tickling at the back of his mind. As much as he intended to ignore the young woman who had returned to the castle, Severus had a distinct feeling he was about to be roped into another situation just as he was when she and her cohorts were students.

When they turned the corner, he shook his head and headed to his quarters. Firewhiskey would warm him, and his book was calling his name. Whatever storm Hermione Granger was bringing, it could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Severus joined the high table for his breakfast. His mind rolled over the details of the book he'd been reading, bending, breaking, and shaping the theories and how they could be applied to practical use. He spared a glance to no one, taking his seat to ignore anyone who would interrupt his pondering.

He reached for his coffee when his eyes swept over his copy of the Prophet before him. The title caught his eye, and his eyebrow rose as he took it in.

 **GRANGER-WEASLEY MISSING!**  
**ESTRANGED HUSBAND WORRIED**!

He snorted, looking along the head table to spot the witch. However, she nor Minerva was at the head table. That was uncommon, but perhaps they were going over some manner of her taking up the post. Turning his gaze to the paper, he continued reading.

" _… As of 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon, Mrs. Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley has been missing. While that is a noticeably short time, her husband is distraught, citing that they were working on things and trying to save their marriage when she left for a walk to clear her mind. The young man was desperate to get the word out. He is convinced she has been taken against her will and offers this to anyone involved with the plot. "If someone has her, they will pay dearly. Return my wife safely, or you'll see for yourself how dangerous I can be." Isn't that purest love. Mr. Weasley also asks everyone to keep their eyes out for signs of his wife and contact the ministry if they spot her. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley's best friend, was not available for comment. Still, his undersecretary informed the Prophet that Mr. Potter is taking the situation seriously and looking into the matter. As for our missing heroine, Hermione, we hope for her swift return..."_

  
It was the collective gasp that had him lift his head from the paper. Minerva and Hermione were walking into the hall. He and Minerva met eyes, he gave her a quirk of his eye, and she responded with a look that told him they would speak later. Mrs. Granger, however, was looking down, or at Minerva, not meeting the eyes of anyone else watching. 

Minerva guided her around the table and gestured that she sit at the empty seat to Severus' left, the empty seat between him and Professor Anadora. He gave the nod to the Headmistress and went back to his coffee and toast. He made a point to ignore the woman beside him, offering an excellent glare to the students looking her way to silence them.

"Good Morning, students. I have an announcement. As you can see, we have a new addition to the head table. Professor Granger will be taking over for Professor Anadora after winter break. Professor Anadora wishes to settle down with her new little one on the way. Please help me in welcoming Professor Granger." Minerva called over the crowd, leading the applause. Severus gave a few claps before returning to his breakfast. 

He did his best not to listen as several of his colleagues came over to greet the woman. Honestly, he would have thought Minerva have the presence of mind not to put her next to him. However, there were only two empty seats, and both were on either side of him. Neville tried to get information from her on the divorce, and he noticed how she quickly shut it down. Once the fanfare was over, she sat down, and he heard the deep sigh.

Please don't bother me. Severus thought with intent, trying to force his presence to convey it without speaking to her. He suspected it worked, as she said nothing.

He finished his breakfast with haste, in case her self-control ran out and made a quick departure. He tucked the copy of the Prophet into his office desk. He began his day of teaching without another thought to Granger and the trouble that followed her.

Even when he saw her at meals, it was easy to ignore her as she pleasantly seemed to make herself as small as possible. He found he might like this new, quiet, and nonirritating Granger. She was tolerable to be in the presence of. There was a tickling in the back of his mind, about the fear he had seen, but he knew that no one left the war unscathed. Perhaps she hadn't completely recovered yet.

* * *

  
**Granger-Weasley Located!**  
**Wizarding World Exhales in Relief.**  


Severus groaned at seeing the paper. Had his life come back full circle to this, would he spend every day hearing nothing but what was going on with her. His groan must have been louder than he realized because the woman to his left snorted. 

"I feel the same way upon seeing me in the paper." Hermione offered, eating gingerly of some ham.

He spared her a glance, raising his eyebrow. "Surely not, I was under the impression that you and your cohorts thrived on this sort of exposure. False modesty is not impressive."

There that would return them to their quiet existence.

"Hardly- I'd rather they forgot my name."

Now that was peculiar coming from someone who strives so hard to make a name for herself. "I find that unbelievable."

"You would, wouldn't you?" She quipped back, adjusted in her seat so that she was turned more from him as if she were ending the conversation.

He was tempted to continue; however, he honestly had no need. He turned back to the paper.

_"Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley has been found safe and sound. Mrs. Weasley has taken up an opening post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As some may know, their current Muggle Studies Professor Anadora is in the family way and will be retiring to become a mother in winter. To fill her place, the current Headmistress Minerva McGonagall appointed Mrs. Weasley to the post. Headmistress McGonagall had this to say about the being missing situation. "Perhaps Mr. Weasley did not listen well enough to his ex-wife, he seemed to have the issue as a student as well. I have been speaking to Miss Granger about this post for over a month. In correspondence sent to their home, this should not have been a surprise. Now, I would like it if you left the grounds and allowed our newest staff member to adjust to her post." There you have it, the missing heroine is safe and sound in the walls of Hogwarts, educating the young on the muggle world, which, her being muggle-born, must be the perfect post for her."_

Severus check the weather and then closed the paper, finishing his breakfast and standing to leave. As he stood, he watched as Neville walked up behind her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she jumped nearly three inches out of her chair, gripping his hand hard. Her eyes met Severus' as she whipped around, and Severus tilted his head in question. Looking down and back to Neville, she never looked back at him.

That was a fear response again. Severus never remembered her being so jumpy in the hospital room when others would come in unexpectedly. She always seemed to know that someone was there. That was peculiar behavior from her now. That tickle of familiar and yet strange in the back of his mind reared up again. Still, he reminded himself that he was doing his best to stay out of her endeavors and walked toward his classroom.


	4. Wanting to Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione'.
> 
> This chapter has graphic violence. Please be advised.

She could not remember the last time she had a full night’s rest. It was no different tonight. As soon as she hit a deep slumber, she would jolt awake, eyes wide as she surveyed the room. 

The waking had been unsettling; she’d forgotten where she was. It wasn’t until she looked out the window to see the black lake that she remembered.

It was hard to believe it wasn’t a dream. That Hermione wasn’t locked in some fantasy while her body recovered from whatever torment. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dream of another life, a way out.

Hermione shook her head, throwing those thoughts away as she pulled her cloak around her.

There would be no sleep. Not tonight anyway.

Looking around at the bare rooms, she debated whether she should get comfortable and unpack a few things.

She quickly dismissed it; there was no way she would end up losing her belongings if she had to flee from here. She thought back to the war, bouncing from place to place, hiding from an enemy that sought to end them. She snorted at the realization that she was in that position again.

Since she would not unpack, she instead sat in one of the armchairs, pulling a book from the beaded bag. She would seek respite in the only way she had ever known, books and the magic of the written word.

Flipping the tome over, she read the cover. ‘An introduction to Muggle Studies.’ She would need to know the material if she wished to teach it. 

“I wish I had some tea right now.” She thought aloud, looking around for a kettle.

In a moment, there was a quiet pop, and Hermione flew to her feet, wand in hand. It was a house-elf, delivering a tray of tea and biscuits. 

“I did not mean to scare you, Professor. I heard your request. The Headmistress asked that I make you comfortable, ma’am.” 

Hermione lowered her guard, sitting again. “Thank you, I- thank you.”

With a great bow, the little elf left, and Hermione sighed. She’d have to get used to that again. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she settled into the book, willing her heart to pound a little less.

Hours into the morning, she was fighting to keep her eyes open. She did not even realize when she fell asleep coiled around the book in the armchair.

It felt like only a second between blinking in twilight and awakening in the full morning light to a knock on the door. Stretching tired limbs, Hermione stood, setting the book down as she approached the door.

“Who is it?”

“Minerva, may I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione answered, opening the door for her.

The older woman had a smile on her face, looking over Hermione. “How did you sleep?”

Hermione closed the door behind her and considered the question. “As normal.” She offered, not lying, but not divulging more than needed. She didn’t want to worry Headmistress McGonagall anymore than she was already.

It was hard to miss Minerva’s look that told her that she knew that her statement meant that she did not sleep well.

“Breakfast is in an hour, would you like me to come back once you’ve readied yourself? I have brought the class schedule for you and Professor Anadora and patrol rotations.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, if you don’t mind, I’ll just pop into the shower, and I’ll be out in a moment so you can go over it with me.”

Minerva nodded, summoning a house-elf to bring her some coffee. “Take your time, my dear, it is your first day.”

Taking that as her chance to walk away, she grabbed her bag and went into the bathroom. Closing her eyes, she quickly stripped and stepped into the shower, setting the taps as hot as she could stand. She showered speedily and efficiently, not once opening her eyes, summoning what she needed to her with wandless spells. It was a habit for her at this point. She avoided her nakedness because of the self-hate for what she saw.

As soon as she was clean, she pulled on a set of loose robes. She spelled her hair dry and out of her face, and she then opened her eyes. Refusing to look in the mirror, she placed her dirty clothes in her bag before returning to the Headmistress. 

Hermione put on her ‘everything is fine’ face and smiled. “Let us go over the schedule.”

Minerva was looking at the Daily Prophet at this point, and she looked at Hermione with a worried look. “Unfortunately, my dear, you will need to look at this first. It seems that Mr. Weasley has reported you missing.”

“What?!” Hermione gasped, looking shocked. 

Walking forward, she took the paper that had been offered to her and read the headline.

**GRANGER-WEASLEY MISSING!**  
**ESTRANGED HUSBAND WORRIED!**

She nearly burst into tears before she could make it through the whole article.

Her eyes met Minerva as she searched for some kind of hope. Ron had made it very clear that he would hurt whoever took her. What if he tried to beat Minerva. What if he came here, what if he found her and no one stopped him from taking her. 

She started shaking as the ‘what-if’s flooded her mind, and Minerva stood, taking the paper from her hands and placing a soft hand on her shoulder. Hermione flinched but looked to the older woman. 

“You are safe here, Hermione. This is the power play of a man who has lost his power and is trying to scare you. I will address this myself with Ms. Skeeter. You won’t have to speak to her.” Minerva tried to console her, and she wanted to believe it.

“But this has gone to the student body, what will they say now when you introduce me?”

Minerva’s eyes were fierce and protective, and Hermione was grateful for her support. “Nothing. There is no need for them to say anything. You are here as a member of my staff, and should someone have an issue with that, they may bring it up with me.”

Hermione shook her head, tears welling up against her will. “But what if he comes here.”

“Then we shall address it according to the nature of his visit. You don’t have to see him.” Minerva squeezed her shoulder in an attempt to comfort, but Hermione shook and stepped back.

“He’s never going to stop. If he’s drunk enough to go to Skeeter, who he hates, he will come here. He will find me.”

Minerva met her gaze. “I assure you, Miss Granger, it would be the biggest mistake of his life. Do not let him control you still from so far away.”

Hermione nodded, trying to borrow strength from that look. Minerva was right. Hogwarts was the safest place for her to be right now. Her shoulders slumped still with the notion that she hadn’t even had one day of peace. “So much for a new start.”

“Not at all. Let’s go and introduce you, and we will take each step together, you and I. You are not alone in this Hermione, no matter what he told you, you have friends and family who love you and care for you.”

It was then that Hermione nodded, letting the older witch lead her out of her quarters and to the Great Hall. She was trying to steel herself for this moment, unsure of what would happen. As they entered, the gasp is what made her look at the floor, unable to do more than that to conceal her unease. She would look between the ground and Minerva, holding her desire to turn and run down.

When she sat next to Severus, she had to take a deep breath and try to shrink in her chair. Surely he would criticize her, ridicule her, even mock that Ron had reported her missing. She felt vulnerable and silently prayed that he would not be like the shark drawn to the blood in the water. 

“Good Morning, students. I have an announcement. As you can see, we have a new addition to the head table. Professor Granger will be taking over for Professor Anadora after winter break. Professor Anadora wishes to settle down with her new little one on the way. Please help me in welcoming Professor Granger.” Minerva offered, and Hermione lifted her head, trying to compose herself a touch while everyone’s eyes were on her.

As soon as the clapping ended, she looked up to see a friendly face.

“Hermione, how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?” Neville said a smile that was curious but warm on his face. She swallowed and stood up, giving him a short and distant hug. 

“It was short notice. You know, I dive into things sometimes.”

He gave her a knowing look. “It’s because of the divorce, right? What happened?”

“I’d rather not, Neville. Not now.”

He looked around and agreed. “Right, right, too many ears. Have tea with me soon, when you are ready. Hannah and I can even have you over for supper.”

“I will.” She promised, and he returned to his chair. Hermione shook far too many hands to be comfortable and was happy to sit down.

Until she felt the wave of hatred next to her, doing her best to ignore Severus, hoping that he would do the same, she ate a bit of toast and drank her coffee, her appetite had waned.

When he got up, she exhaled in relief.

“He is in a mood.” The young woman next to her spoke. Hermione looked over to Maria Anadora and nodded.

“I believe that is his default setting.”

The woman chuckled. “Not quite, but the paper seemed to send him into a sour mood. It is a pleasure to meet you, Professor Granger. I look forward to what you can bring to the class.”

Hermione smiled. “I look forward to teaching with you. Minerva has told me Nothing but good things about how you have structured the curriculum to be more updated.”

“Thank you, it was a group effort, but I executed it.”

Hermione found it was easy to fall into an academic conversation with the woman. Professor Anadora was a tall woman, with thick black hair braided off to one side. Her tawny brown skin was bright and glowing, which Hermione assumed was because she was beautifully pregnant. The woman had a small bump that showed through her robes. Her bright amber eyes were alit with intelligence and humor. 

Professor Anadora walked her through the day, having assured Minerva that she would have her completely prepared to take over the class in the month they had. 

Hermione was impressed by the classroom and the subject material. Anadora did not allow for any kind of shaming of Muggle and their customs. It was refreshing. And by diving into the academics, Hermione was able to push back her anxieties and fears.

It wasn’t until dinner when Anadora excused herself for not feeling well. Hermione felt seated alone next to Severus that she thought once again uneasily. She felt the cold dread of his diamond tongue, tearing through all her defenses with a word. Hermione did everything she could to avoid his notice. 

She even left the meal as soon as possible. She wasn’t hungry anyway.

Once in her room, she sighed, crawling into the bed. She didn’t dare change into something to sleep in; after all, if she had to run, she wanted to run in something that could keep out the cold. 

Setting the charms as her nightly ritual, she laid on top of the covers. Making sure her bag was at her hip, and her wand in her hand, she finally relaxed.

Sleep took her quickly, and she did not resist.

To her surprise, she slept much longer than the night before. It was a few hours before dawn, and that meant she had slept at least six hours. _A new record_ , she thought, stretching.

Deciding that she would start today with a better mood, she rose and got ready quickly. Another loose set of long-sleeved robes and she was on her way to the great hall. She had schooled her features this time, reminding herself that everything was going to be okay. Even if she didn’t believe it, it would be enough for her to fake it.

She took her seat next to Professor Snape, scooting it closer to Maria and eating her breakfast in silence. She was working on a piece of ham when she heard the man next to her groan. 

Hermione had been so focused on forcing herself to eat something that she hadn’t noticed the paper that had arrived in front of him. 

“I feel the same way upon seeing me in the paper.” She replied, not knowing why, but hoping to impress upon him that she was not pleased.

The look he gave her made her shrink as he rose an eyebrow. “Surely not, I was under the impression that you and your cohorts thrived on this sort of exposure. False modesty is not impressive.”

“Hardly- I’d rather they forgot my name.” She whispered with earnest, looking back at her plate and regretting saying anything in the first place.

“I find that unbelievable.” Hermione recoiled internally, his words painful.

She knew she needed to end this before he drove her to tears. “You would, wouldn’t you?” 

Hermione moved her chair more toward Anadora and focused on getting the piece of ham down. She prayed to the fates that he left her alone. 

When it was quiet for a few moments, she relaxed, and more so when hearing him get up to leave.

When a hand clamped on her shoulder, her mind when blank with fear, and she grabbed the hand, jumping and preparing for the blow that her mind screamed was coming. Looking up, thinking it was Severus, she caught his curious gaze. He tilted his head, and she looked at Neville, realizing she had reacted so poorly to him.

She heard Severus swoop away and paid it no mind. 

“Merlin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Hermione. I wanted to know how your first day went Yesterday. You alright?” Neville asked, and Hermione nodded, catching her breath and willing her pulse to slow.

“I was distracted, old reflexes.” She pushed his hand away and stood, giving him a false smile. “Yesterday was great; I learned a great deal. I think teaching will suit me.”

Neville leaned in close, and Hermione had to still herself. “You alright? You seem out of sorts.”

“Yes, just nerves. I’m fine, I promise. Why wouldn’t I be fine?” Hermione said, hammering the quiver out of her voice that threatened to give away the panic that was still receding.

“Okay, then. If you need to talk or you need a friend, you know I am here. I’ve got to get to class; my students will be trying to tickle the mandrakes again.” He offered, giving her arm a gentle squeeze before walking away.

Hermione closed her eyes tight and then nodded, walking out of the Great Hall.

She decided to head to the classroom early and start looking over Anadora’s lesson plans. It was then that she heard the call of a familiar owl, and she froze. Pig dropped a letter at her feet and perched on her shoulder, preening her hair.

She picked it up, frozen with fear as she looked at her name written in angry strokes.

He knew she was here.

Hurrying to her quarters, she set the owl on the window and carefully opened the paper.

**Are you fucking serious? You ran off to Hogwarts? You coward, you cow. You didn’t even have the nerve to tell me you were leaving. You left me worried that someone had taken you. You still have enemies, you know. Merlin, woman. This has gone too far. I am coming to get you after I get off work, and you are coming home with me. Pack your stuff. - R**

The tears were impossible to resist, and she sank to her knees on the stone floor, considering her options. Which there were few. 

She could run. If she left now, she could be halfway around the world before Ron could catch her trail. The thought gave her no peace. She wanted to start over, not spend her life in fear.

But he was coming here. He was going to cause a scene; he was going to make her the monster. She was shaking as she pressed her forehead into the stone of the floor. When she had laid down, she couldn’t remember.

Panic had her by the throat, and she was gasping for air. Her mind a tempest of plans and solutions, and above all, the fear. She knew what he could do to her. She was afraid of what he would do to anyone who stood in her way. Everyone here was in danger because of her.

Merlin, she was tired of being afraid, of hiding, of hurting. There had to be some way to reason with him, to make him see that this was for the best. That they were over. Maybe if they were here at the castle, he would see. He would go back to being the Ron that had some sense, and she could get him to let her go.

That was it. Hermione would have to stand her ground. He wouldn’t possibly hurt her here, not when someone could catch him. He’d show restraint. He’d listen. It wasn’t his fault, it was the drink, and she knew she could be downright annoying.

She took in a deep breath, opening her bag and pulling out a piece of parchment and ink. Her hands were still quaking as she wrote, her fingers fighting to make out the letters.

“Come after dinner. Meet me by the main gate, and let’s talk about this. Please come sober. Please, don’t drink before you come. -H”

Sending the letter with Pig, she fought her way to the loo. Barely making it, she heaved up what little she had managed to get into her system. She didn’t dare tell Minerva. If she did and things went tits up, she would hate herself if she got hurt.

No, she had to protect those that cared about her from his wrath. Maybe this time, he would listen. Perhaps this time he would let her go in peace.

It took her nearly an hour to get up off the floor from the bathroom. The first class was almost over when she arrived, excusing herself by saying she got lost in a book. It was something that everyone would believe. Professor Anadora smiled and fell into the ease of teaching the class. Hermione found it hard to enjoy what she was doing as a giant knot sat in her stomach, tying tighter the closer it got to dinner.

Classes came and went, and Hermione did what she could to be involved and not give away her distress. Maria walked with her to the Great Hall. She was offering reminders on how to tell who was who of the students. Hermione listened with half an ear, nodded.

Dinner was nerve-wracking. Minerva had given her a look that made her fear that the woman knew, and Hermione had to breathe deeply to contain control. Minutes clicked by, and it was like a clock was spelling out her doom. The only way she stayed calm was reminding herself that there was a chance he would see reason. 

Once students were tucked away in houses, she lit a lantern and headed out onto the grounds. He would likely be there already, and she didn’t want to spark more ire by making him wait in the snow.

Closing the door behind her, she marched quietly, hoping no one would spot the light as she moved toward the gate. Each step was more cumbersome, and she had to fight not to turn around and go back. She had to do this, or else Ron would tear the castle apart looking for her. 

She saw him, and he walked out of view into a side garden. For a moment, she was frozen, fear crawling up her spine and taking ahold of her.

You can do this, Hermione. Explain that it is over, he will listen this time. She repeated this in her mind as she walked after him. 

He turned to glare at her when she approached, and she held her head up, doing her best to appear strong. She had decided she was staying here. He had to listen to her.

“Hermione, what the hell? Why did you just take off in the middle of a fight?” He asked, closing the distance. 

She took a step back, trying to stay out of his reach. “I told you, it’s over.”

His eyes narrowed, and he pointed a finger in her face, touching her cheek. “No, no, you bitch, you don’t get to just walk out and say it is over.”

He was so close she could smell his breath. It reeked of firewhiskey and ale, and she shuddered, trying to take a step back as her chest grew tight. He couldn’t even come here sober. “You’re drunk.”

“And you are coming home with me now.” He snapped, grabbing her arm with the intent to drag her to the gate. She knew he couldn’t apparate them here, which was another reason she had thought he would come calmly.

She pushed at his hand on her arm and him, nearly crying as she yelled at him. “No, I’m not, I want to stay here.”

He turned on her then, eyes hard and dark. He was furious. “Too bad. You are my wife; you belong to me.”

“No, I don’t.” She sobbed, pushing his hand away from her, trying to get distance at the fear was swallowing her. She tried to remember that he wouldn’t hurt her here; he could be caught. He never did it when there was a chance someone would see him.

His tone went cold. “Oh? Is that so?” 

Hermione had no time to move as his hand came crashing down on her face. It stung and hurt, and she pushed at him. He was stronger than her, with more mass, and he quickly wrestled her to the ground.

 _Not here, he wouldn’t…_ Hermione thought desperately. It was a defeated thought as he put his hands around her throat. He was going to choke her again. 

“Get off of me. Let go! Stop! I can’t breathe.” She screamed, trying to claw and kick and punch him away from her. He acted like her blows did Nothing to him.

“Stop screaming, or else I’ll make you stop.” He yelled at her, slamming her head back against the ground. She was gasping for air now, his thumbs pressing into her voice box painfully. Her vision swirled and blurred as her heart pounded in her chest. Hermione was willing herself to keep conscious.

“ **Expelliarmus**!”

Her vision went black.


	5. Hello, Mr. Weasley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> This chapter has graphic violence. Please be advised.

That evening on his rounds, he felt the prickle of his skin as the wards warned him that they had been breached via the main gate. It was someone coming in who the castle recognized as a threat. Severus sent his Patronus to Minerva and changed his course, heading for the main door. He had a distinct feeling he knew who it was, and he was pleased for the chance to find out what all this was about. 

As he descended the stairs, he watched for anyone out after hours. He was, after all, still on patrol. Below him, he saw the light in the main hall, and he wondered if Filch was on his way to the doors as well.

Once he arrived, he saw no sign of the old man, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been the one with the light. Casting a warming spell on his clothing, he opened the door. It moved with ease, and footprints were in the snow, leading away from the castle. _Had someone else gone out to meet this threat? Could Minerva already be out there?_

Stepping out into the bitter cold twilight, Severus surveyed the grounds. He saw no person, but he could feel there was something amiss. If it was the castle or his instinct was telling him that, he didn’t bother to check. 

Wand in hand, he moved and listened as he got closer to the front gate. Then he saw it, a light walking into the trees near the entrance. Whomever it was, they had come from the castle. That alone made him concerned; if it were a student, there would be hell to pay. 

Listening over the slight wind, he heard raised voices, and he slowed, creeping as to catch whomever this was, unawares.

He could hear two distinct voices as he grew closer. The first, he recognized as Mrs. Granger’s, the second was slurred and loud and easily recognizable as Mr. Weasley’s. Severus listened, carefully moving closer with his wand ready. What was going on here? Was this some attempt at reconciliation that he had no business intruding on, or was Mr. Weasley a real threat to Granger?

“I told you, it’s over.”

“No, no, you bitch, you don’t get to just walk out and say it is over.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you are coming home with me now.”

“No, I’m not, I want to stay here.”

“Too bad. You are my wife; you belong to me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh? Is that so?” 

Severus heard a scuffle, a slap, and the sound of bodies hitting the snow. He launched forward. He’d heard enough. There was no reason in his mind to allow this to continue.

“Get off of me. Let go! Stop! I can’t breathe.”

“Stop screaming, or else I’ll make you stop.”

“Expelliarmus,” Severus shouted, launching the man backward off of her. Severus had seen the man on top of Hermione, both hands around her throat, and she was kicking and scratching to get him off. His blood boiled. Regardless of if she was the bane of his existence, no one would suffer that under his watch.

  
She was lying on the snow now, not moving for a moment, and Severus felt a wave of concern as he stepped forward. She gasped in air and began to cough and scramble up to her knees. Mrs. Granger looked up at him with a look of disbelief on her face. Severus turned his attention to the man who had gotten to his feet.

“Oi, Snape, this has no business of yours. I’m just telling my wife that she is coming home.”

“Hello, Mr. Weasley. Are you here on official business?” Severus asked firmly, his jaw set as he took a step forward, putting his body between the woman panting on the ground and the drunken man.

“No, Snape, I am here on personal business. Now bugger off, you greasy git.”

Severus gave a wicked smile, advancing another step.

“Mr. Weasley, I am going to be generous, and that is only according to your drunken state. You have until I count to three to be out of that gate -” He gestured to the main gate. “-or I will hex you.”

The man stood up, squaring his shoulders and trying to puff his chest out. “She is fucking coming with me, and there ain’t a thing you can do Snape. I’m not a boy no more; I ain’t afraid of you.”

  
“One,” Severus said, with a raised eyebrow, his wand pointed at the young man’s chest.

“Hermione, let’s go.” Mr. Weasley said, taking a step like he was going to bypass Severus to Granger. Severus put the wand between his eyes, keeping himself between the drunk and her.

“Ron, just go.” He could hear Granger pleading behind him. She sounded scared and hoarse.

“Oh come the fuck on, you are gonna stay with a git rather than me?”

  
“Two.” Severus intoned, pressing the wand point forward and with it, the redhead idiot.

“Please. Just let me go. Let it go, Ron. We’re done. It’s over; I can’t let you keep doing this. Please, go.”

“Alright, alright.” Mr. Weasley said, turning to leave. 

Severus observed him carefully, so when the man spun around to punch him, he was ready. He stepped to the side and hit him with a total body cramping hex, making all of his body go into a spasm of pain. 

Severus tucked one hand behind him, lifting Mrs. Granger to stand behind him as Mr. Weasley convulsed. He let the spell sit for a moment before releasing it.

  
“Three.” Severus intoned mockingly, looking at the heaving man. “Get off these grounds before I forget myself, Mr. Weasley.”

“Fuck off.” The man at his feet panted. 

Severus looked rather bored as he made a sweeping motion with his wand and lifted the man into the air. He cast the hex again, letting him lock-up. It was a rather extreme version of the total body bind. Walking to the gate, he launched the man forward with his wand, sending him in a heap in the snow as he released the spells.

  
“Do not come back,” Severus said. He closed his eyes for a moment, barring the man reentry from the gate with the power given him as Deputy Headmaster.

He turned to the woman who was looking at the ground, extinguished lamp in her hand. He could not stand how meek she looked standing there; it struck a nerve.

“I will escort you to Minerva. Come.” He barked.

She jerked away quickly and then inhaled, looking as if she were calming herself. She was shaking, her hands twisting on the metal as her breath came in heaves. 

It was then that Severus lowered his voice, remembering now that he had just witnessed her being assaulted. “Mrs.- Miss Granger, I cannot leave you here in the snow. The Headmistress will be better for you to explain what I just witnessed to.”

“How much did you hear?” She whispered, sounding defeated.

“Enough.” He answered quietly but firmly.

She looked at him with desperation in her eyes. “It’s not his fault. It’s the alcohol.” 

He held his hand up to stop her. “Miss Granger, we should get to the castle.”

There was a yelp behind them as the castle gate threw the man back again. “He will not be able to come in again without the express permission of the headmistress or me.” 

Severus placed a hand in the center of her shoulders, turning her and leading her up to the castle. He had to take many calming breaths, as he was not as calm as his exterior showed. 

Under the layers of wool and scars and bone, there was a wave of raging anger. While he was sure it was just a row, he couldn’t believe that Mr. Weasley would resort to such violence. That the man would have a temper he could understand, but this. Severus did not speak as he led her, and she did not seem to want to either. 

“Severus!?” Minerva shouted, rushing forward. “What was it? Hermione, are you alright?”

Severus squared his shoulders, removing his hand from between her shoulders.

“Mr. Weasley arrived drunk, unhinged, and attacked Mrs. Granger,” Severus said shortly, leaving the Hermione to the Headmistress.

Minerva looked furious. “Where is he?”

“Either still trying the wards, or giving up and going back to the bottle. I closed Hogwarts to him.” Severus answered with a clipped tone. He desperately wanted to leave this situation before his anger consumed him.

“Thank you, Severus. Come on, let’s get you inside. Why on earth did you come out here to meet with him.” Minerva asked, and Severus stopped, looking at her too. He was curious as to her reasons as well.

“I thought I could reason with him, get him to leave me be. I never thought, on Hogwarts grounds, that he would be-” She stopped, looking up at him Severus. He could see there was fear there. He noticed that she quickly put her head down. 

“I made a poor judgment call. I’m sorry, Minerva. Thank you, Professor Snape, for your assistance.”

He tried to look stoic and unaffected. “As Deputy Headmaster, it is my duty to ensure all of those within our walls are safe. Goodnight.”

Severus did not stop to hear them say goodbye. He marched to his quarters and holed himself up with firewhiskey and his rage. Severus had to convince himself not to kill someone tonight. It had been a long time since he’d been this angry.

* * *

The next morning he was more cross than he had been in a long time. Storming into the room, he abruptly took his seat and with no look at the others at the table. It was not until his second cup of coffee that he dared to look over at the woman next to him. She was quiet, looking at her plate and introspective. It wasn’t right. Something was off, and after what he had seen last night, he had to know what was going on.

Granger touched her hair, then swiftly drew it back over her shoulder as if hiding her neck. He recognized the behavior, and it sent a tinge of fury up his spine. His mother had made similar movements when she was hiding injuries from his father’s rage. But, she was an incredibly powerful witch, surely she wouldn’t have allowed Weasley to maltreat her more than this one drunken incident. He could see the bruising when he looked carefully, and it made him angrier. He had to take a breath, to rationalize this.

Perhaps he was reading too much into her movements. 

However, his instincts told him that Severus needed to observe her. He had already assumed the boy had struck Granger once before, as that would be the only thing he could think of that would enrage Minerva. But what if it was more than just a strike and more than once before.

He knew now that he needed to take a more in-depth look into this if only to put to rest the notion that Hermione Granger might actually be a domestic abuse victim. She was too fierce, and a fighter, resilient, it was unlikely it was anything more than a row gone out of hand.

She noticed him staring at her, and she took in a deep breath.

“I am sorry about last night. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should have been more careful with him, and you would not have had to get involved.” She explained, and he listened to her, watching how her lip trembled and how she could not hold eye contact for more than a moment. She was apologizing as if she were the one to have attacked him.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Granger, to see his expulsion from the grounds.” He answered curtly and went back to his meal. He could not afford for her to think anything other than that. Not when his stomach broiled with barely controlled anger.

As he rose to leave, he heard his name called by Minerva. “Severus?”

“Yes, Headmistress?” He paused, his hands clasped in front of him.

Her expression was severe. “Can we have a meeting in your planning period. I have something of import to speak with you about.” 

“Of course, Headmistress.” He offered with a nod, doing his best to keep his own emotions at bay.

“Thank you.”

Severus left and went about his day, wondering what great task she had for him. If obviously would have to do with that happened the night before, it could be any manner of job. 

Severus was grateful that his students had the presence of mind not to test him today. They studied dueling defensive spells for the first half of class and put their study to practice for the second half. When he had to demonstrate to a student how to block with a Protego properly, he must have scared them. 

_Good_ , he thought, _they need to have fear when learning to defend themselves_.

He found himself tense, distracted by thoughts and speculation while he taught. His mind replayed what he’d seen and heard, trying to draw from it hints and clues. 

Was this the one-off of a desperate man. 

Even if it was, it was unacceptable. 

But if it wasn’t, if this were another episode in a long history of violent incidents, then something would need to be done. 

Severus wasn’t even sure why he cared or bothered at this moment. Only that the tickle in the back of his mind was urging him forward. Severus wondered if his mind was convincing him that he owed her because she saved his life. 

Except, he didn’t feel like he owed her. He’d been content with the knowledge that he’d achieved his goals and that death while not swift, was at least a certainty for him that night. He had left no loose ends, no unfinished business.

Waking up weeks later, with her bushy brown hair and a hopeful smile in his face, was not what he thought he would see. He could not speak, could barely move, and was held captive as the girl hero prattled on about how she was worried he would not make it. She found a way to make an anti-venom from the head of the beast that had attacked him. She went on about how she never gave up on him. 

The constant, incessant talking had made him want to hex her.

And yet, he was helpless and at the mercy of those around him. If not for Minerva, who he hated just as much at that time, sending the twit off to rest, he would have gone mad. Day in and day out, Hermione Granger was there, talking to him, telling him the news, updating him on everything. All he wanted to do was rest and enjoy silence. She would give him no such reprieve.

And then there was the speech therapy. The relearning to use a body touched by death and ripped from it had been harrowing. She was always cheerful, always enthusiastic. She would sit there, offering unwanted advice and unneeded tips. He fought to speak faster just to tell her to shut up. She even dared to grin at him when he managed it. She was insufferable.

He didn’t even felt he owed her for her work at his trial, which Severus had been unable to attend as he was bedridden. Minerva had fought like a lioness to keep in Hogwarts medical wing, unwilling to let him be transferred lest someone try to harm him. Hermione had acted as his proxy, taking orders on his behalf from Minerva and putting that brilliant mind to his defense. When she came back that day telling him that he’d been judged innocent, she smiled like she had won something. It as if she had gained something. He was furious that his fate had been left to her. If she’d failed, he’d be the one who would have suffered.

And he didn’t feel like he owed her for her overabundant kindness. No, he made that clear to her the last time they had spoken. She had her chance to cash in any debts.

He growled to himself, not willing to think any more about how he did not feel like he owed her. He would not be in debt to someone again, he’d paid his dues, which had nothing to do with it, he decided. 

No, this had something to do with being the man he was. If he willingly let any woman, no matter how annoying, suffer through that kind of violence, he would be just as bad as the man who gave him his surname. 

He had to know. Surely he was wrong, and Hermione Blasted Granger was too strong-willed to suffer that, but he had to know.

When his planning period came, he dismissed his 3rd years with a glance. They quickly skittered out, obviously sensing his mood. 

Moving to his office, he opened his drawer. He pulled out the Prophets that had to do with the Granger-Weasley Divorce and his confiscated copy of Witch Weekly that he’d removed from Ms. Bletchly. He decided that he wanted some facts before fiction and read the magazine. Romilda Vane was infinitely more tolerable than Rita Skeeter.

  
**Granger Calls It Quits**  
**Trouble for Witch Weekly’s Second Most Popular Couple**  
By: Romilda Vane

I find myself aghast, confused, and sympathetic as I pen this article. Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley has just informed me that she is seeking a divorce from her husband, Mr. Ronald Weasley. If those names don’t sound familiar, allow me to educate you. Two-thirds of the Golden Trio are getting divorced. Ron and Hermione are Harry Potter’s, the man who lived, best friends. They had a whirlwind romance only six years ago, and now that all seems to be crumbling down. 

Mrs. Hermione would not indulge me in the details of her divorce request, citing incompatibility and contrasting ideals only. Her interview with me was short and to the point. Still, if you had seen what I had seen, you would know something else is amiss. I would almost dare to say that perhaps there is another more dangerous element in this marriage destroyed. However, I am not Skeeter at the Prophet, and I don’t speculate, I investigate.

Here is what I have been able to determine from accessing public files on the two, which are few and far between. The Granger-Weasley household had been having its fair share of turmoil in the last two years it seems. Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley filed a Motion of Separation nearly two years ago. It cited physical abuse and emotional trauma as the reason, and Mrs. Granger-Weasley stated that she feared for her life in the affidavit. But what could the brightest witch have to worry about? Does our other Golden Boy have a hidden mean streak?

Those close to the couple seem shocked by this revelation! None more than her supervisor at the Ministry of Magic, Sir Micheal Deanburrow. He informed me that she sent her letter of resignation the same day that I received a meeting from her. Quite mysterious, if you ask me, readers, and you are here, so you do. Mr. And Mrs. Potter refused to comment on the pending divorce. However, Mr. Potter did state that no matter what, he supported both his friends if they felt that a split was necessary for their happiness. Why would the Hero of the Wizarding World support a breakup if there was no problem? Does he know something? My sources close to the Ministry tell me that he seems distraught and as worried as the rest of us.

Now, readers, you must be asking, Romilda, did you speak to the man himself. I will tell you readers that I did, and I must say to you, Mr. Ronald Weasley was beside himself. She apparently did not inform Mr. Weasley of her intention to separate, according to him. He said he was as befuddled and confused as the rest of us. He thought they were doing just fine, sure they had typical marriage issues, but he didn’t know they were this bad. He even hinted that maybe the Missus was leaving him for another man since it was so sudden. I have yet to find sources to confirm that statement, but there is always a chance that Mr. Weasley is the victim of adultery.

That, however, does not make the man a saint. While looking to the pair, it was discovered that he is a frequent regular at the Leaky Cauldron, and is often reported having loud brawls and drinking heavily. My sources also found he is a card-carrying member of Secluded Delights, which some of you readers may not know, is a gentleman’s club owned by one Mr. D. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy would not comment on Mr. Weasley’s status as a patron, citing that he has a responsibility to the privacy of his patrons. But insists that the club has nothing to do with the dissolution of the two heroes’ marriage and wishes to be left out of it. 

There is one last thing to consider, readers before I end this article. There was speculation about six months ago that Missus Granger-Weasley was carrying a bit more around the midsection, and maybe a new Weasley was on the way. However, abruptly, Mrs. Hermione disappeared from the public eye, and there was no more about it. Could there have been some private tragedy that is ripping this couple apart? Unfortunately, I cannot find any facts on this speculation, save for one interview where Mr. Weasley hinted that their duo would be a trio again.

It saddens everyone here at Witch Weekly to hear this news, especially when they were voted our most popular couple just last year. We, and especially me, hope that this turns out best for the two of them. My thoughts are with Mrs. Granger-Weasley as she embarks on what had to be an impossibly hard choice to make to start her life over.

Stay Witchy Readers,  
_Romilda Vane_

Severus had taken a drink of his tea as he finished what he considered drivel. At least Vane had the common sense to cite her sources and let her readers know when she was speculating. There were some interesting nuggets in there, things he determined to investigate himself. Draco would be an excellent place to begin. He was putting the magazine down when he saw Minerva walk into his office. She seemed upset, her eyes red around the edges as if she’d been crying.

“Severus, I didn’t know you read that, what did you call it, _hormonally driven drivel masquerading around as journalism_.” She chided, but there was no weight to it. He shrugged, grabbing the Prophets and flipping through the article. Skeeter had decided that Granger was a harlot breaking the ginger boy’s heart and had speculated that she was leaving Weasley for the minster of magic. Severus sighed, knowing he’d find nothing of interest in that madness.

  
“How can I help you, Headmistress. And if you tell me she has run out into the snow again, I am not fetching her.” He offered, and he heard her sniffle behind the paper. 

He lowered it, looking at her probing eyes. Minerva was upset and had been crying. For her to come to him in this vulnerable of a state meant that something was amiss.

“Severus, I wish I could tell you. But I cannot. However, I have to ask that you not attack Mr. Weasley if he comes back. Hermione fears that it would endanger you and send you to Azkaban. She begged me to tell you that everything she did to save you would be wasted on her account. That she wasn’t worth the risk.” Minerva’s voice was strained as she said the words. 

He rose an eyebrow. 

“Why are you telling me this?” There had to be a reason; this was not how she often handled these sorts of situations. 

“Because you have the keen ability to read between the lines, Severus,” Minerva said firmly. “Ms. Granger is **afraid** **of** you going against **her** **ex-husband**. She **begged** me that **you** not end up in Azkaban for **killing** him.” She repeated it slowly, an expectant look on her face like she pleaded for him to make assumptions and uncover the truth without her telling him.

He set wards on the office door, leaning forward on his desk as he met the woman’s eyes, a grim expression on his face.

“And why would I kill Mr. Weasley now, if I didn’t last night. All I was asked was to make sure he was not on the grounds.” This was the time to ask probing questions. Minerva was trying to tell him something, and he was pretty sure he understood. However, he had to know if he was right or now.

“Because she is **afraid** of **you** going against **him**.”

Severus narrowed his eyes, nose flaring. “She is afraid of _him_ , or _me_?”

Minerva inclined her head as if to say, Ronald. Severus felt a fire start burning hotter in his stomach, and it burned with old rage. He knew already that he’d been wrong. This was not a singular case of violence.

“Hermione Granger is afraid of her ex-husband. Now, why would she be afraid of a man who could barely case a spell? Unless he wasn’t doing magic against her, _was he_?” Severus was not fond of this back and forth but understood it.

Minerva looked like she was on the brink of tears herself as he spoke. It was enough to make his shoulders square, and his eyes harden even more.

His next words came out like a venomous whisper. “Minerva, did Mr. Weasley regularly abuse his wife?”

She held her head perfectly still, knowing a movement could break her oath, but her eyes said it all. She looked at him with a vulnerability that he despised and understood. His chest exploded into fury.

Swallowing back anger and taking a collective breath, he whispered. “Was this more than just recently? Has he been abusing her for a long time?”

Again, silence, but a pointed stare. Severus could feel a hard lump in his throat. 

He sighed and summoned tea for them both, he needed it for his nerves, and he knew how to get more information.

“How long has it been going on? How many sugar lumps?” 

The questions posed together gave her a chance to answer both and not break the oath. This reminded him of times during the war, the games that he and Albus would play to get information without endangering Severus. That fact alone filled Severus’s lungs with heated rage.

She looked at him and smiled in understanding as she spoke with an emotional voice. “ **Six** lumps, please.”

The anger went cold in an instant, deadly, like a serpent that was going to strike. Severus Snape knew precisely how she took her tea, and it was not that. For six years, the bastard had been abusing Granger. How had no one recognized? Merlin, how was Minerva sitting there and not murdering the fool.

“Ah... I suppose I can nullify the oath by saying that I know what you are hiding?” He asked, hoping it was that sort. Inevitably Hermione would not have constricted Minerva to a solitude oath. At least, he hoped not.

Minerva nodded, and he suddenly realized two essential facts at the same time. One, he had planned on avoiding the woman in question on her arrival. This was going to change that potentially, and two that he might actually end up murdering the redhead menace.

“Minerva, I know that Ronald Weasley has been physically abusing his wife, Hermione Granger, for six years. You are at leisure to speak to me about it.” Saying it made him grit his teeth. 

A strangled noise of rage left the old woman’s mouth, and she met his eyes. 

“It’s more than that Severus, but enough that I can speak to you. She tried to run away this summer, and he nearly **killed** her. I don’t know what all he did to her, but the fight in her is gone. I brought her here to teach and to bring some of that young woman back hopefully. Because I swear to you, Severus, I was certain that she was going to kill herself the night she came to me. I will never forget the way she looked.” 

He watched as the woman he looked up to twisted in anguish in her chair, because even as she had the freedom to speak now, saying it hurt her. It was the subject and not the spell that caused the pain. 

“ _Minerva_.” He paused, closing his eyes and focusing the anger to a point, knowing that uncontrolled it would wreak havoc on him. “Minerva, you know now that I **will** kill him if he sets foot here. You know.” His words were a hiss. He had gripped his desk, white-knuckled, and his face was wrapped in rage.

“Severus, she said she would go back to him rather than have you sent to Azkaban for killing him. Please, only hex him.” Minerva was expressive as she spoke, imploring him to use restraint.

“But you just asked me not to. Make sense, woman!” He snapped, teeth bared.

Waving her hand as if to dismiss the notion, she exhaled deeply. “Severus, I was giving you all the clues I had to work with. I don’t care if you turn him purple, as long as you don’t get arrested.”

He smirked at her then; it was an evil smirk, the kind that he knew made her nervous. “I can work inside those parameters.”

She leaned back in her chair, pinching her forehead for a moment before she spoke. “Severus, don’t tell her, you know. She is convinced that you will use it against her.” 

The anger shattered into a million icicles as her words were a blow to him, nearly physically.

“She thinks I would taunt her for this-” He knew that Hermione Granger had been privy to his memories and that she knew what he’d suffered as a child. Surely she didn’t think him so heartless that he would derive pleasure from this pain.

The Headmistress sighed, looking at him with tired green eyes. He could see the age on her now, more than he had as of late. “She still knows **Severus Snape** , the cruel spy with too much on the line to care, not this Severus Snape, who doesn’t have a war on his shoulders. You both need to meet each other as adults, as I said before.”

Perhaps there was some truth to Minerva’s words. He’d been expecting the twit he encountered when he taught and woke up. This Hermione was obviously a different creature altogether.

“I will consider it, but now, I need a stiffer drink than tea and some time to collect myself. My 4th years will not stand a chance if I do not calm before their lesson.” Severus offered, standing and heading toward the door to see her out.

The older woman rose and moved to the door, nodding. “Fair point. Severus, this is between us. She cannot know, you know.”

He bowed his head before opening the door. “Headmistress, if you know anything about me, it is that I can keep a secret.”


	6. Weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

Everything was black, and nothing hurt. The steady thrum of Hermione’s heart was the only sound.

But then, it wasn’t steady.

It was rapid and loud, and it felt like she was drowning in the darkness.

All of a sudden, her lungs burned as she sucked in cold air, gasping. Her eyes flew open, her hands moving over her face as she began to cough and sputter. 

It had all come back to her, Ron, the castle, his hands around his throat. How long had she been out, why had he stopped. She looked up and met the angry black orbs of Severus Snape. _Had Severus stopped him? Had he saved her?_

“Oi, Snape, this has no business of yours. I’m just telling my wife that she is coming home.” The yell made her snap her attention to Ron and his red rage painted face. He was furious; she could see by the way his jaw was grinding. He always ground his teeth when it was going to be a bad night.

Hermione had begun to scramble back and then froze as a long leg stepped over hers. Severus had put himself between Ron and her.

“Hello, Mr. Weasley. Are you here on official business?”

She was still trying to quell the fear and retake control of her lungs. The cold burned them, but it was welcome to the notion of not breathing.

“No, Snape, I am here on personal business. Now bugger off, you greasy git.” Hermione could hear the hiss of threat in his voice, and she flinched, watching as the two men faced each other.

Part of her considered running, but she would not leave Severus, no matter how dangerous he was, with Ron. 

“Mr. Weasley, I am going to be generous, and that is only according to your drunken state. You have until I count to three to be out of that gate -” She watched as he gestured to the main gate with a lazy sweep of his wand. “-or I will hex you.”

Hermione was confused by his calm demeanor and even his actions at all. Still, she dare not make a sound, afraid of the wrath Ron’s diverted attention would bear down on her. Watching with a feeling of helplessness, Hermione did nothing as her ex-husband tried to square up on the older man.

“She is fucking coming with me, and there ain’t a thing you can do Snape. I’m not a boy no more; I ain’t afraid of you.”

“One,” Severus said, and Hermione was shocked. Was Severus going to hex Ron? Why would he go through all this trouble for her when it would be easier for him just to walk away?

Ron moved like he was going to snatch her arm from behind Severus, and she stepped backward. “Hermione, let’s go.” 

Severus intercepted him, putting his wand between his eyes. Hermione was sure that Severus was going to kill him.

A different fear coursed through her now, thinking of what could happen to Severus if Ron pushed him that far. Hermione couldn’t let him take such a fall for her. No, she had to try to reason with him again.

“Ron, just go.” She pleaded, moving to her knees and hoping that Ron would make the right decision for just a moment.

She knew she was wrong with how his eyes fell on her. Her heart shrunk in her chest, and her breathing slowed. He was going to kill her, or at least try again.

“Oh come the fuck on, you are gonna stay with a git rather than me?”

“Two.” 

Hermione watched as Severus pushed the wand tip into Ron’s forehead, making him step back. She did know what compelled her to try more, but she had to get him to listen. If he would just listen, this would be over, and they could go on with their lives.

“Please. Just let me go. Let it go, Ron. We’re done. It’s over; I can’t let you keep doing this. Please, go.”

Hermione watched as his shoulders slumped. “Alright, alright.” 

She watched him turn to leave, and she felt a small touch of relief. It was brief, however, as she shrieked when Ron spun around to punch Severus.

 _Oh Merlin, he just, he tried to hit Severus. How drunk is he?..._ She thought, her eyes full of fearful tears. She cried as Severus hexed him, her eyes wincing at his sounds of pain.

She opened her eyes to an open hand in her face, and on instinct, Hermione took it. Severus pulled her to her feet, drawing her directly behind his body. There was no doubt now that he was trying to protect her.

Except, she couldn’t understand why. He hated her. He’d said more than as much before. What could compel him to do this? Hermione wracked her brain, even as if ached, for some kind of sense in what she saw as madness. 

Hermione felt like he writhed for an eternity, and she turned her face, unable to watch it. 

As soon as the tall man in front of her let the spell go, she heard him speak.

Severus’s voice was cold, deadly, and she felt fear, even though she was behind him. “Three. Get off these grounds before I forget myself, Mr. Weasley.”

“Fuck off.” Ron panted, and Hermione turned her head as the spell hit him again. She stood frozen as Professor Snape levitated him and threw him out of the property.

Standing there alone in the snow, she felt incredibly small and vulnerable. She wrapped her left arm around her elbow as her hand came up to cup her burning cheek. She was baffled by this whole evening. She’d been so sure that Ron wouldn’t dare hurt her on Hogwarts grounds, and she had no idea why Severus had shown up and saved her. She’d forgotten his presence until he yelled at her.

“I will escort you to Minerva. Come.”

Hermione jumped away from him, her hands moving defensively before she could gain her composure. She took in a shaky breath, forcing herself to calm, her heart to slow. Her hands were still shaking, but she could do little about that.

When he spoke again, it was softer, and she almost felt worse for it.

“Mrs.- Miss Granger, I cannot leave you here in the snow. The Headmistress will be better for you to explain what I just witnessed to.”

“How much did you hear?” She whispered, defeated, and deflated. She’d come here to avoid this and keep anyone in the castle from knowing what had happened. Now Severus knew at least about this.

“Enough.” 

She felt some tinge of need to explain, to make him understand that this wasn’t as bad as it looked. She couldn’t have him thinking her vulnerable. He’d have more than enough ammunition from what he’d seen. “It’s not his fault. It’s the alcohol.” 

His upheld hand was enough to silence her, and he gave her a stern look. “Miss Granger, we should get to the castle.”

She heard Ron yell in pain, and she looked at the gate, seeing him on his ass in front of it. He seemed almost madder than she had ever seen him before. She cringed at his cursing and the threats he was flinging at her.

  
“He will not be able to come in again without the express permission of the headmistress or me.” Hermione heard the threat in Severus’s voice and looked at him for a moment.

Without another word, he firmly put his hand between her shoulder blades, urging her away from the gate. She barely flinched, letting him guide her. The adrenaline was fading, and her anxiety was rising, making her tired. She could hear his even deep breaths behind her, and she walked in silence, hoping he would not ask her questions she was no ready to answer. She doubted she could get him to give her a wand oath for the information, either.

  
“Severus!?” Minerva shouted, and Hermione was broken from her thoughts, looking up as the woman rushed toward them. “What was it? Hermione, are you alright?”

She felt him remove his hand from her shoulders, leaving a warm spot quickly invaded by the cold air.

“Mr. Weasley arrived drunk, unhinged, and attacked Mrs. Granger,” 

Hermione looked at the ground, able to face what she assumed would be disappointment in Minerva’s eyes. She’d only not told her to keep her safe and stressfree, and she couldn’t even do that right.

She heard the Headmistress snarl.

Standing there as the two professors talked as if she was not there, Hermione breathed shallowly. She was trying to wrestle with the typhoon of emotions sweeping back and forth through her mind.

Hermione looked up when Minerva addressed her, not recalling what had just been said before. “Come on, let’s get you inside. Why on earth did you come out here to meet with him.” 

She could feel their eyes on her, judging her, the disappointment had to be substantial. 

“I thought I could reason with him, get him to leave me be. I never thought, on Hogwarts grounds, that he would be-” she stopped herself before she finished, remembering that Severus was there. She looked at him, fearful of what he would think of her.

It mingled with the fear of Ron, and Hermione wanted to cry, but not here. She’d not give Snape the satisfaction of seeing her break any more than he already had.

“I made a poor judgment call. I’m sorry, Minerva. Thank you, Professor Snape, for your assistance.” She nodded to him, turning to the older woman, hoping she had not broken her trust in her.

“As Deputy Headmaster, it is my duty to ensure all of those within our walls are safe. Goodnight.” And then he was gone, storming into the castle.

“My dear, come, I will get some hot tea, and we will look at that eye.” Minerva offered, guiding Hermione into the castle. They moved to the rooms that Minerva had made her own, which were cozy and warm.

Hermione wished she could relax, but she knew, just outside those walls, Ron was there, waiting.

She let the older woman look her over; she was too tired to resist. She tried not to wince as Minerva put a cooling charm on the redness of her face.

“I’ll need to call Horace or Poppy for some bruise salve for your next dear.” 

Hermione put her hands up. “No, I have some in my rooms, I will put it on when I go back.”

She didn’t want anyone else to see her like this.

“I’m sorry, I’m soo sorry, Minerva. I thought I could reason with him.” She began to cry, her voice cracking as she hoped that Minerva wouldn’t turn her back on her now.

“Shh, you’ve nothing to be sorry about. I should have barred him before. I had thought he wouldn’t dare harm you here. I am sorry for not protecting you better.” Minerva intoned, moving to pull Hermione into her embrace.

She felt such guilt that Minerva thought that she’d failed in protecting her. Hermione was the one who failed; she’d failed, again and again, to get away from Ron, to see it for what it was, hopeless.

Hermione did not flinch or pull back from the hug. Instead, she let the woman hold her, and she began to sob into her shoulder. Her body shook with the force of the tears as her fingers held on to the fabric. There was nothing she could do to stop the overflow. Sobs came from deep within her, from places she didn’t even know she had anymore, and she felt like a small ship being tossed on the sea of her emotions.

She could hear the Headmistress shushing her, a hand tenderly patting her hair.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise, on these old bones of mine, that you will be okay. This is not your fault.” Minerva whispered, and Hermione coughed as another sob wracked her sore throat.

After a few minutes, Hermione was starting to come down, and she leaned back from the woman comforting her. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for everything. I didn’t mean to endanger Severus.”

She watched as the woman laughed softly, shaking her head. “Severus was in no danger. I’m sure he was just as worried about you as I am.”

“I doubt that. You know how Severus feels about me. You were there.” Hermione offered, fixing herself in her chair.

She took the cup of tea that was next to her, wrapping her fingers around it. She tried to take a drink, but it was hard to swallow with how sore everything was.

“Hermione, that was six and a half years ago. He was still trying to find out who he was in this world and get control of his body back. I doubt he feels the same way.”

“He meant it, and he still hates me. I just don’t understand why he helped me. I’m grateful, but he could have just walked away? Why didn’t he?”

“My dear, he is not the same man. I am telling you as someone who has lived with him in these walls for all this time. The Severus Snape, who threw you out of that hospital room, is not the man who teaches here.”

Hermione shook her head. “He seems the same to me.”

Sighing, Minerva took her seat next to her on the sofa. “Maybe because you are looking with old eyes. But I doubt you want to spend more time talking about Severus. Do you want to tell me what happened, or would you rather tell me tomorrow?”

Hermione swallowed hard, wincing. 

“He sent me an owl. He said he was going to come and get me. I just, I thought I could reason with him. And I was afraid of who he would hurt if he came to the castle looking for me. I begged him to come sober. Minerva, I know what he is capable of. I couldn’t have him come to the castle and hurt someone. I just wanted him to understand that I can’t do this anymore. I’ve given up enough; I can’t. I don’t want him to kill me; I’m not ready to die at his hands. Even though I sometimes wish that Bellatrix had finished the job years ago, I still don’t want it to be by him. He hardly knows what he does when he’s like this. The whiskey and the ale and the booze is the only thing that seems to bring him comfort, and he becomes another man. I just thought I could reason with him.” She rambled for a moment, her mind swirling with all the pain. She stopped when Minerva placed a hand on hers.

“Please don’t wish that. The world is a better place because you are in it.” Minerva whispered, and Hermione could see the pain in her eyes.

“Sorry. It’s a fleeting thought, I’m sorry, I’m just exhausted is all.”

Minerva gave her a faint smile, but she could see tears in the corners of the older woman’s eyes. “Would you like to sleep here tonight. I can easily transfigure the couch into a bed, and I would be in the other room. If it would make you feel safer.”

Hermione thought over her options and quickly decided that she didn’t want to be alone in her quarters. She also didn’t want to disturb her friend.

“No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to impose, and I sleep horridly, I don’t want to keep you up.”

“It will be no bother, but I respect your choice. Come, I’ll walk you to your rooms.”

Hermione nodded, finishing her tea and standing, letting herself be led.

When they reached her room, she bid the Headmistress goodnight and closed the door. 

As soon as the door closed, she was putting up wards on every door and window. Her body was sore and tight, but she could not rest until she knew that no one but Minerva could enter her rooms. 

As she did the wards, she thought about everything over and over again. Her failure weighed on her heavily. She’d messed so much up. She’d failed as a wife and as a friend. She failed even to save herself. She was weak and pathetic, just like he’d told her.

She was lightheaded, and the realization that nowhere in the world would ever be safe for her settled in like a boulder in her stomach. 

Lying on her back, staring at the smooth stone ceiling, Hermione felt like she was looking down at herself. Like she wasn’t even in her body anymore, looking down at the wreckage that she’d become. Everything else around her seemed to be a ripple, like it wasn’t real and just a mirage.

Hermione couldn’t say how long she lay there, numb and distant. The only thing that broke her from her dazed state was the sun’s peak, bringing light into her room. It felt like the light forced her to collapse into herself, and she could feel everything again. Her neck ached, her body was stiff and worn out, and her head pounded with her thunderous heartbeat.

 _So much for resting_ … Hermione resigned herself to getting up and facing the day. Showering was more painful than usual; she found a spot on her back that much too sore from just lying in one place. Her back must have hit something when he knocked her down. She didn’t dare look to see if there was a bruise, she couldn’t handle that sort of breakdown right now. 

Dressing quickly, she made her way to the dining hall much before everyone else. There were some early risers, but the room was relatively quiet, and she was thankful for that. Her head pounded, and Hermione assumed it was from lack of sleep and the stress. She managed a piece of toast on an empty stomach and was thankful for that much.

The quiet calm she felt in the hall broke abruptly as she felt Professor Snape storm in. His energy was like a wave of rage, and she had to fight to not dry heave or worse lose her breakfast; she’d fought so hard to get it down. She did not dare look at him, she kept her focus on her place setting before her, sipping water because coffee was too harsh for her right now.

It was several tense minutes sitting there considering excusing herself, but not being eager enough to want to head right to classes. Hair brushed across her face, and she pushed it back. She instantly realized that she’d done nothing to cover her neck, which had to look terrible, and she moved her hair back. She’d have to do some concealing spells before class. She wondered if her face looked awful as well.

She felt his gaze suddenly burning into the side of her head, and she took in a steadying breath, looking at him. 

“I am sorry about last night. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should have been more careful with him, and you would not have had to get involved.” She whispered her lip tremoring in fear of what scathing remark he would have for her. Merlin, how must hate her even more, now that he’s seen how weak and spineless she is.

Hermione watched his eyes as something passed behind them. She could not discern what it was, but his expression seemed to harden and soften at the same time.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Granger, to see his expulsion from the grounds.” His response was sharp and short. 

Hermione expected more, but he simply returned to his meal without another word. Her stomach sank. She wasn’t even worthy enough for his insults any longer. She was really the most worthless creature to exist. 

Had it been pity in his eyes. The churning in her guts made her have to hold the arms of the chair, so she did not curl forward. She was so wrapped up in controlling the waves of nausea that she did not notice he left the room. When she finally had ahold of the swirling anxiety in her mind, the hall was nearly empty again. 

Minerva was there, looking at her with an expression of worry. Hermione gave her a weak smile, and got up from her seat, excusing herself from the table to head to her classes. A quick stop into the restroom and concealing charms had her at least looking presentable for her classes.

Professor Anadora expressed concern over her, mentioning that it had looked like she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep. Hermione offered an excuse for being up too long reading and that she’d not make the same mistake tonight. It seemed to satisfy the woman, and they continued in the ease of teaching. Today Hermione would be assisting in the lesson, getting the hang of the student’s names, and presenting the material.

To Hermione, it felt like she was on auto-pilot, her body and voice making all the moves of their own volition. Her mind was elsewhere, tossing in turmoil and distress. She couldn’t get Severus’s gaze out of her mind, formulating all the wretched things he must think of her. It was like her disguise of being the Brightest Witch had been ripped off in front of him, and she dreaded how he’d use it to hurt her.

As the day dragged on, she found herself lagging.

She had agreed to tea with Minerva before the planning period. Anadora said it would be best for her to enjoy the reprieve.

Hermione took a seat in the Headmistress’s office, holding a tea with her eyes downcast.

“I’m so sorry I disappointed you, Minerva, and put Severus out for having to save me.”

The words were so quiet; she wasn’t even sure if she spoke them. The older woman nodded and offered her a biscuit. “Perhaps we should turn our discussion into the future from this ugly affair. But before we do, I have to address this. I have, given Severus a-, particular request, which is why he came to your aid.”

Hermione rose her eyebrows, wondering if, for a moment, the woman before her had broken her oath to her. No, she would have known.

“What is that?”

Minerva smiled into her cup. “I told him that should your ex-husband show up that he has full permission to hex him and forcibly throw him from the property.”

Hermione put her hand to her mouth, a wave of horror passing over her features. “But Severus could’ve killed him, and what would we all did to keep him out of Azkaban amount to then.” It had been a hard year battle to prove his innocence and his assistance in the war. 

“No, I won’t have it. I’d rather go back to Ron right now than have Severus risk his freedom for me like that again. I’m not worth it; I’m not worth that risk.”

The tears could not be stopped now, and Hermione hadn’t even realized she had risen to her feet, ready to bolt. She wouldn’t go back to Ron, at least, she was mostly sure she wouldn’t, but Hermione would not have that man ruin what she worked so hard to give back to the man who saved their lives over and over again.

“Hermione, please, sit. I will address it with him and let him know that it is against your wishes. However, I will not have Mr. Weasley here or near here. I will not allow him to lay eyes or anything else on you while you are in my employ. You are safe here, and I have to say that if Severus were privy to the full circumstances, he would disagree about your worth.”

Hermione looked at the woman sitting there and shook her head. “You can’t tell him. He’d use it against me, and I can’t handle that right now. He’s already seen too much.” She sobbed, her voice shaking even as she tried to show strength. “He already won’t call me Miss, he says, Missus. He will torment me. He will ridicule me. I can hear it now.”

“He would not! The man that you knew as a child and even the man who threw you out of his hospital room is not who Severus Snape is now. I know he would not tolerate what has happened to you at the hands of that scoundrel, nor would he ridicule you.” Minerva stood, closing the distance and reaching to hug Hermione. “I promise you, you are safe here, and your secret is safe with me. But I also promise that Severus is a different man. He’d keep you safe if he knew.”

“I don’t know what safe means anymore,” Hermione admitted as the woman hugged her. She wanted to fight it out of instinct, but once she was enveloped, she fell apart at the woman’s next words.

“I know. And it’s okay not to be okay; we will remedy that yet.” 

She wrapped her arms around Minerva’s shoulders and sobbed, her knees wavering. Her chest hurt, and she felt like there was a clamp on her chest that had ripped open. Minerva shushed her, rubbing her back and supported her as she unraveled. It felt like every tear she held back was pushing out of her now, against her wishes. She cried and did not know how long, only that she was exhausted and sore when she was done, and her face felt puffy. Minerva’s robe was soaked, and the woman retook a seat, warming her tea.

“Let’s fix you up; I know you’d rather the student body not see you in a state.” The witch lifted her wand and cast a few cleaning charms. Hermione flinched at first but swallowed it back. 

As soon as Hermione felt like she was able to go back to teaching, she returned to the class, more tired than before.

By the time dinner came around, she had considered just going to bed. But slight hunger pangs had set in, and she knew that she would at least need to eat some bread.

Severus was already there when she arrived, and his expression was as impassive as ever. The only difference was that she could feel his eyes on her every move. It was unnerving, but she didn’t have the energy to do anything more than force some roll down with a bit of tea and a bit of cheese.

Hermione sat there, watching the students talk, and she wistfully wondered what it would have been like if every year of her school year, Tom Riddle hadn’t tried to kill her best friend. Would Ron had been a different person. Would they have even dated and married?

Suddenly everything in her vision shifted, it was black, and she could feel Ron behind her, his breath touching her skin. The pain ripped through her back as he yanked her head back. “If you ever try to leave me again, I will kill you.” 

She screamed.

And suddenly she jerked her head up, gasping, looking around for the threat. A hand placed itself over her wand hand firmly, and she looked with terror, expecting Ron, but finding Severus looking at her with a perplexed gaze. 

She was still in the great hall. Her breathing was fast and hard, and she swallowed, aggravating her throat as she looked at him.

“Professor Granger, perhaps you should retire. I will escort you.” His words brooked no space for argument.

She looked around, and much of the student body was now looking at her direction, confusion on everyone’s faces.

“Severus?” She heard Minerva call, and she looked that direction. There was worry written on her face. Hermione was still trying to get her head around what had happened. One minute she was fine, and the next, Ron was there.

Severus’s voice broke her from her thoughts as he stood. “I will take care of it, Headmistress. I shall return shortly.”

  
He stood, having let go of her hand and tilted his head at her. She could see that he was impatiently waiting for her to move, and she sighed, getting up and following him. He led her out of the side door quickly.

Once they were out of the great hall, he slowed his stride, and she found it was easy to keep up with him. She walked with her head down, following the patterns of the stonework on the floor.

“Miss Granger. I understand that your experience last night may have been traumatic. I recommend a dreamless draught and some bruise salve. If you do not have any, I can gather some from Professor Slughorn and deliver it to you.”

Hermione looked at him like he had grown another head. He’d called her Miss Granger, he was offering advice. “I- um, sorry. What?”

“I am not fond of repeating myself. Do you have any dreamless sleep draught and bruise salve?” He snapped, but his voice was low. She assumed it was to keep the conversation between them.

“Forgive me, Professor. I don’t take dreamless sleep draught. I have some salve. You won’t need to go out of your way on my account.”

He turned then, looking at her as if he were sizing her up. It was uncomfortable, being under his penetrating gaze. He held that look for a long time, before he continued walking, seeming to have found what he was looking for, or not. She couldn’t really tell. The man was acting strangely. 

Hermione was sure that he was waiting for the perfect moment at which to twist the knife and remind her that she was insufferable, and obviously, the fanfare surrounding her had been overstated. 

But nothing came. Severus walked her to the entrance to her rooms and stopped. She looked between him and her doors and considered what he could still be waiting there for.

“Miss Granger. I would like to finish my supper.” He intoned, and she nodded her head vigorously.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Um, thank you for walking me.” She moved to place her wand at the portrait, having changed the wards to not work with passwords that were not secure enough. Not for her, at least.

“I recommend you sleep, Professor. Goodnight.” 

She watched him turn and walk away as the door opened. She stepped inside, stopping to make sure he kept walking before she shut the door. 

“That was… strange.” She said aloud to the empty room.

Hermione yawned loudly. Her whole body screamed for rest and comfort.

She didn’t make it to the bed; Hermione didn’t have the energy. Collapsing into a high-back chair, she curled her knees up to herself. She’d only intended to rest there for a minute.

However, sleep gave her no chances, capturing her and running away with her. 

Her dreams were fitful and terrifying. She woke up with a start, unsure how long she’d been in the chair, but her neck hurt even more.

It was then that she made it to the bed. Crawling under the blankets for the first time since she’d been there, she cast her protective charms and lay there. After a few hours of calming herself, she fell back asleep. 

Morning came quickly, but the second half of her sleep was less fitful. She figured she’d slept a total of six hours. It was more than her usual four. 

Her body ached when she rose. She opened her bag, pulled out the salve she should have used yesterday, and started coating where she could feel pain. It began to recede, and the headache from her strain began to subside.

She needed coffee. 

Rising from her seated position and changing her clothes, she prepared for the day. She put her other clothes in the bag at her side and headed out into the castle.

“Good morning, Professor Granger.” A little Ravenclaw said, and she smiled, returning the greeting and heading to get some breakfast.

She sat down next to Severus, not even looking at him as she poured her coffee. She drained the whole cup, steaming hot, in one draw. The bitter burning woke her up, and she let out a soft exhale as she sat down her cup. The warmth spread over her body, and she felt a touch of peace.

“Good Morning Hermione. Did you get some rest?” Maria asked her taking a seat next to her and Hermione smiled.

“I did. I fell asleep in a chair at first, but I eventually made it to bed.”

“You really must temper your reading. I had heard how voracious you were with books, but you were dead on your feet yesterday.” Professor Anadora offered, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

“I do apologize. Today will be a better day.” She offered, and for a moment, Hermione almost believed herself.

“I have no doubt.” Maria grinned and then went to her breakfast.

Hermione looked over the food before her and decided on an orange, knowing the sugar would help her make it through the day.

She’d just taken a bite of the first orange slice when the Daily Prophet was dropped off in front of Severus. She glanced at it and saw her name and tilted her head.

“May I?” She asked him, and he pushed it toward her while taking a bite of his meal.

Unfolding the paper, she read the headline.

**GRANGER-WEASLEY’s SECRET DISCOVERED**  
**BRIGHTEST WITCH IS INVOLVED WITH EX DEATHEATER SEVERUS SNAPE**

The fear hit her like a solid wall, and she kicked back from her chair, holding the paper in her hands as she read the article, her hands shaking. The more she read the report, the more she saw red, the fear shaping to anger.

_“…The Wizarding World has been speculating on what caused this rather sudden divorce between Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger-Weasley, that the Missus asked for. Our sources have been digging deep, and we now know why Mrs. Granger-Weasley took up a post suddenly within Hogwarts. She has been having a torrid affair with a fellow war hero and ex-death-eater, Severus Snape, behind her husband’s back. How long it’s been going on is hard to say. Still, one source says it could have been going on since Mrs. Granger-Weasley helped Mr. Snape, who is 20 years her senior, recover from injuries sustained at the Battle of Hogwarts. And the child she was carrying this last summer is considered by this source, to have been his. Where is this love child? Is their a baby hiding the halls of Hogwarts…”_

The first sob hit her throat from her chest, and she turned, running for the door. She dropped the paper, her hands covering her mouth as she ran. She had to get away; she had to go someplace, anyplace than right here.


	7. Vehemence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Severus had been right, his 4th years would not have survived him if he hadn't taken the time to calm himself. Even after a stiff drink, something he rarely did during the day and a few well-placed hexes, he was still seething in rage.

It baffled him, and Severus was not an easy man to confuse. This was the Brightest Witch of her Age, a title she had earned through battles and her OWLS and NEWTS. This witch could brew a potion as a second-year that many of his graduated pupils never mastered. How had she gone from a force to be reckoned with, to this? 

Now that he thought on it with open eyes, he could see the signs even from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her at the gate. He recalled he had a hard time recognizing her but had pushed it away as not his business.

But now, it was his business.

 _Merlin, how did this go on for six years? Where were her supposed friends? Surely Potter would have noticed something? Was he complicit?_ The thought set a fire in him, and he swore to Lily that if her son was a part of this that he would personally take care of it. This hit too close to home for him. 

Severus spent most of his last few lessons inhaling sharply through his nose and reminding himself that his students were not to blame for his ire. He assigned them writing assignments, not trusting them, or his current mood to work on practicals. Fortunately for them, they did as they were told and kept out of his way.

It benefited him, as he had time to think over the many ways he could handle this situation. The way he saw it, there were two fronts. 

  
The first, being the Golden Girl, who needed to be reminded who she was. 

The second was the offender, who Severus wanted to personally destroy everything about him. 

It was a complicated problem. Having heard how Hermione had reacted to him having permission to hurt the manchild caused concern. If he mishandled this, he could potentially drive her back to Mr. Weasley out of her misguided Gryffindor notion of protecting him. Severus couldn't wrap his mind around the ludicrous idea, because this woman was trying to protect him as if he were the one in danger.

Still, with its complications, it did pose a challenge, and Severus enjoyed challenges. He'd have to observe her more, see how deep this trauma indeed went. Some times, people didn't come back from abuse as they were. As foreign as it was to admit, he hoped this was not the case for Miss. Granger.

By the time dinner came around, Severus was starving and exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he had held on to anger this long and this tightly. At least, not since the war.

Taking his seat, he schooled his features, a mask he'd not worn in a while over his face. He ate his meal, waiting for Granger to arrive.

When Hermione Granger entered the hall, Severus took the time to actually look at her. His earlier estimation, when he'd first seen her, was still accurate. She was underweight. It made her cheekbones more pronounced and her jawbone sharper. Her eyes were sunken, ghosts of dark rings around her eyes. However, he was drawing contrasts from a round-faced teenager and a twenty-five-year-old woman. He had never seen her as an adult, so he wasn't sure how off base he was.

He watched as she walked around the table, reading her body language. She was skittish, she moved like someone ready to run in an instant. It drew him back to her flinching. Had he so thoroughly abused her that she assumed all contact would be violent.

Severus took another steadying breath as she sat next to him. Up close, he could see that she was almost sickly looking. Her skin had the slightest of a yellow tinge. Was she eating correctly? He observed that she hardly consumed anything—a few bites, not enough to sustain someone.

She looked like she hadn't seen good sleep in a decade; it was a look he was familiar with himself. She had a slight haze over her eyes as she watched the hall before her. Severus was not discreet as he watched her, and it was more telling than anything else. Granger seemed to shrink and freeze under his gaze, like prey. 

That was likely the only reason he noticed when her eyes fluttered

close, and her chin dipped to her chest slightly. Her shoulders did not relax; however, her body seemed to grow tenser. He considered saying something, but he didn't want to startle her.

He didn't get the chance to say something; however, as a shriek left her and Severus watched her lift her head up, her gaze was terrified and lost. The room grew silent as she suddenly gasped for air.

On instinct, he covered her wand hand, someone in a state of dream walking was more than capable of casting.

Her eyes met his, and he was overcome with the rawness of her fear. Her pupils were wide, eyebrows tight, and raised together. He rose an eyebrow at her, occluding his mind so that her fear did not overwhelm him. She seemed to come to herself as she passed a glance around her surroundings. He said nothing, only giving her a curious gaze as she seemed to anchor in reality. Her painful swallow was evident, and he admonished himself for not checking or having someone else check her injuries.

It was apparent that she was not okay.

"Professor Granger, perhaps you should retire. I will escort you." It was an order.

The Headmistress was getting to her feet. "Severus?" 

He met her gaze, giving a slight nod to her as he spoke. Minerva was still taxed from whatever interaction had brought her to tears before their meeting. He would handle this. 

"I will take care of it, Headmistress. I shall return shortly."

Letting Granger's hand go, he got to his feet, watching and waiting for her to rise to her feet. He passed a few glares around to students whispering. The staff at the table seemed baffled as well. Anadora looked confused, looking between Granger and himself. He paid it no mind as she rose, and he led her out of the room.

Severus ran over several lines of dialogue in his mind, trying to weigh what would be best. He would not ask probing questions, it would allow her to speculate that he knew more than she assumed. That might trigger her to run again. He strolled, allowing her to walk with ease. Her head was down, her brown hair lackluster and with no shine—another sign of malnutrition.

Minerva had said she was afraid that the witch would've hurt herself. It was rather hard to align this woman before him with the foolhardy child he'd taught. 

They walked in silence for a few moments before he spoke.

"Miss Granger. I understand that your experience last night may have been traumatic. I recommend a dreamless draught and some bruise salve. If you do not have any, I can gather some from Professor Slughorn and deliver it to you." He offered his voice low to keep this exchange as private as could be in the halls.

The expression she bestowed on him was one of disbelief. She stuttered her way through a response. "I- um, sorry. What?"

The ire rose up in for a moment. 

"I am not fond of repeating myself. Do you have any dreamless sleep draught and bruise salve?"

She looked sorrowful. "Forgive me, Professor. I don't take dreamless sleep draught. I have some salve. You won't need to go out of your way on my account."

Her answer surprised him, and he stopped, looking at her hard. 

_Why on earth would you not take Dreamless Sleep Draught?_ He thought, seeing how she was nearly dead on her feet with exhaustion. She twisted her hands in front of her as he looked at her and tried to dissect the statement.

It took him longer than he would have liked to realize why she wouldn't take such a potion. It would make her vulnerable. She would not be able to wake quickly, and based on her actions so far, that seemed to be a matter of life and death. He'd have to investigate something to aid her sleep without that effect.

Satisfied with his evaluation of the subject, he turned, walking again. Granger stayed at his side, walking quietly. Granger did not stop wringing her hands, however, and he wondered if she even noticed the tick. It was troublesome to see. He remembered his mother doing the same thing when she was anxious, he'd seen others do it as well under this kind of trauma. He pressed the thought away. Getting overly emotionally entangled with this would make it difficult for him to do what was needed. And Severus needed was for her to start recovering with his aid without knowing precisely what he was doing.

When they arrived at her quarters, he stopped a few feet away, giving her privacy for her password. Her confused expression was starting to irritate him; obviously, she was not daft. He was not leaving until she was safely in her rooms.

  
"Miss Granger. I would like to finish my supper." He interjected into her thoughts, grousing in the hopes that she would get on with it and rest.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Um, thank you for walking me." 

He watched as she did not open her doors with a word, but rather a series of complicated wand movements. It was a powerful protection charm.

It was then that Severus came to another revelation, which was apparently the theme of the day. Her brilliance wasn't muted, it had shifted to ensuring her survival.

"I recommend you sleep, Professor. Goodnight." He offered, now that her door was open. He turned and walked away, not giving her time for whatever she could imagine to say. 

Upon his return to the great hall, Minerva rose an eyebrow, and he nodded his head. It was a nonverbal conversation that he conveyed to the older witch that the young lioness was safely in her rooms.

"Professor Snape, what was that about, is she alright?" Professor Anadora asked in a low voice, concern coloring the woman's face. 

Maria Anadora was someone who Severus spent very little time around. He knew that she was from the Americas and that she'd come highly recommended from the Salem's Witches Academy. She was often very quiet, she kept to herself, and Severus liked that. It meant that he did not have to engage in mindless small talk. When they did talk, it often circulated some academic notions or school events. He knew nothing of the fiance that she had, the man she was leaving her career for. Then again, he didn't care to know much either. However, at this moment, the young woman who rarely paid mind to anyone else was obviously concerned for Miss Granger.

"She is alright, Professor. Simply exhaustion. I suspect that the transition to Hogwarts was more taxing on her than she was prepared for." He offered quietly.

"Oh, alright. Hermione said she'd been up all night reading. She was so out of sorts today. It was like she was somewhere else."

"Hmm. Yes, perhaps something of import has all Professor Granger's attention. If I know Miss Granger, she will be back to her normal mannerisms once she adjusts to all the changes."

Severus finished his meal and got up to leave. 

"Professor, might I ask a favor? I need a letter delivered to Naldo; he wants to know how the baby and I are. I do not think I can take the steps up and down the Owlery. I would be ever so grateful if you could take it to the owls." Professor Anadora asked, getting to her feet.

While he did not enjoy the idea of being an errand runner, the woman was six months pregnant, and he was going to do patrols anyways. Giving her a nod, he took the offered letter from her hand.

"Just this once, Maria." He intoned, getting up to leave.

"You are a gentleman and a scholar. You have my gratitude."

"I would not go that far, madam. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Severus left the hall, stopping first at the Owlery so that the woman's post would be off. After that, he made his rounds, taking more points than usual for students out of bed. All the while, Severus was thinking of how he could make slight changes to Hermione Granger's daily life to improve her health without giving it away. He assumed she'd either be too proud to take his help or shut down at the notion that she needed help. He would need to get a few books, brush up on recovery for these sorts of things so that he didn't cause her more distress.

And he also needed to get ahold of his godson Draco and find out what he could get on Weasley.

————

Morning came too quickly for the man who spent much of his night reading and researching. He'd come up with several good ideas and knew that everything depended on him knowing his subject well. He hated that Minerva would get some glee out of this, but if Severus was going to help Granger get her life back, he would have to get to know her.

He sat down to breakfast, his mind going over what he'd formulated the night before. He asked for his coffee to be stronger this morning, as he would not get any rest unless he could get a kip in during his planning period.

When Granger entered the hall this morning, there was some minor improvement. Her color was still off, but she looked like she had gotten some rest. Her eyes did not look as glazed.

He watched out of the corner of his eyes as Professor Granger downed an entire cup of steaming hot coffee in one tip. He continued his breakfast, only keeping part of his attention on the conversation between the two women at his left. Granger's voice even seemed a bit more upbeat this morning.

That was a peculiar change.

He noted that she ate hardly anything again. He'd need to get to the bottom of that and find out if she was purposefully starving herself or a psychological aspect.

The paper landed at his elbow, and he paid it no mind; he'd read it later.

Granger gestured to his paper and asked timidly as if he was going to bite her for the asking. "May I?" 

He pushed it toward her, continuing to eat. 

That was perhaps, his first mistake, not reading it first. 

Suddenly she was on her feet, a look of abject horror on her face. 

He wiped his face and turned to inquire, but watched as the terror on her face turned into something else. It was rage, it was fire, and for a moment she had the expression of fury about to unleash hell on the world. 

Severus was taken aback by the expression and more so when it dropped suddenly, and a sob escaped her throat. He barely caught the paper as she threw it down and ran out of the room, covering her face.

He looked at the headline, and suddenly he understood the rage, as it now took over him. _How dare that hag!…_ He snarled, reading further down.

_"…The Wizarding World has been speculating on what caused this rather sudden divorce between Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger-Weasley, that the Missus asked for. Our sources have been digging deep, and we now know why Mrs. Granger-Weasley took up a post suddenly within Hogwarts. She has been having a torrid affair with a fellow war hero and ex-death-eater, Severus Snape, behind her husband's back. How long it's been going on is hard to say. Still, one source says it could have been going on since Mrs. Granger-Weasley helped Mr. Snape, who is 20 years her senior, recover from injuries sustained at the Battle of Hogwarts. And the child she was carrying this last summer is considered by this source, to have been his. Where is this love child? Is their a baby hiding the halls of Hogwarts…"_

There again was a mention of a pregnancy this summer. But Severus Snape had escorted her himself into the castle, she had no child with her. This had to be why she began sobbing.

A cold wash of anger ran down his veins as he had a horrific thought.

_Did Weasley have Granger's child?_

He had to know now! If there was an infant in danger, then all this careful planning would have to be accelerated.

He paid no mind to the others around him, turning and marching out of the room. He didn't heed the Headmistress calling his name.

It could wait, right now he needed to know what the stakes were.

Holding his wand out, he tapped into the castle, using a finding spell on the witch. She was running up the astronomy tower. 

He grimaced but did not still his movement in that direction. He'd not been in the tower since that night, so many years ago. There had never been any need, and so he kept a respectful distance. 

Moving through anyone who stood in his way, he moved with a mission. Most were wise enough to get out of his way. He picked up his pace when there was room, climbing the stairs. He closed his mind to his own issues with this ascent and focused on the matter at hand. 

He found her standing at the railing, looking over the side and sobbing. It was a broken pitiful sob, and her whole body shook with it. Her hands were white-knuckled as she held the railing, and he could see a trickle of blood from where her palm must hand caught a bit of the metal.

"Miss Granger." He said, and she whipped around, red and puffy eyes meet his gaze.

"Merlin, I am so sorry. I know, I know, you must hate me more. I swear I had nothing to do with that… that **lie**. Why can't they just leave me alone, **haven't I suffered enough, haven't I given enough**." She shouted, and he could see that she was just as angry as she was in anguish. He felt a touch of understanding, as he had uttered those same words at least once in his existence.

"Miss Granger." He interrupted.

"Yes?" She asked, looking at him with wild eyes.

He took in a calm breath, holding all the fury from his face, as he found the right words. "Where is your child?"

Severus watched as she recoiled as if he had slapped her with the words. 

Her knees buckled under her, and he took a step forward, catching her elbow. He'd not have someone else go over that edge.

Her breathing became rapid, her eyes going like a deer caught cornered.

"Severus, I can't…" She gasped for air, her hand grabbing the arm of his frockcoat as she sunk to the ground. His hand held her shoulder as he let her settle to the ground, himself kneeling in front of her. What had just happened? 

He noticed that the gasping for air was getting quicker, she was hyperventilating. 

"Breath Granger." He demanded, holding her upper body up as she seemed to have no ability to hold herself on her own. Severus watched as she fought for air, her body looking to go into a panic response. 

She was going to cause herself to pass out.

"Hermione. Breath. IN. Hold. Out." He said, breathing in the manner he wanted her to. Letting go of her shoulder, he caught her chin, making her look at him as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her wild eyes panicked for a moment longer, before relaxing on his gaze. Her hands were on his arms now as she shook, trying to get air into her lungs. 

He was sure they were there for hours, with him breathing, trying to get her to calm.

  
When she finally seemed to have control of her lungs, he looked at her seriously again.

"Miss Granger. Are you capable of speech now?" He asked quietly.

Granger nodded, exhaling slowly and letting go of his arms. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered, and he shook his head. 

"This episode is of little consequence at the moment. Can you answer my question."

Her face paled, and she swallowed hard. 

Severus was watching her closely. It was hard not to, with their faces not even two feet from each other. 

"I can't. I-, you don't-, Severus-, you don't understand." She stumbled over words he noticed.

"Miss Granger, if your child is out there in danger or being kept from you, I do not need to understand, I simply need to know where I need to go find them."

He watched as she made a heartbroken sound, her hands coming to cover her face. She shook her head, tears running down over her chin. Severus felt a pang of concern as she shivered in his hold. He could feel that she was skinny through her robes, his hands now on her sides to steady her.

"I was. But I'm not. Not anymore. Please, don't ask any more questions." She begged, her voice small and fragmented. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the woman who seemed to have shattered into even more pieces at his feet. Seeing her like this made him angry again, but not at her. It was at the circumstances that had brought her to this.

He had a million more things he wanted to ask her, but he could tell this was not the time or the place. Whatever she had been through, it had scarred her. It didn't take a mediwitch to see that Granger held on to her mental state by a thread. He feared that any more invasion and she'd break. He didn't want to see what that looked like.

"Very well." He agreed, exhaling and releasing her, allowing her to balance herself. "I suggest you take leave of your classes today. As Deputy Headmaster, I am relieving you of your duties until tomorrow. You aren't in a state to teach."

"I-, why?"

Severus's face shifted to confusion. "Why? Because you are clearly distressed, and it will not be conducive to your students or you to try to teach when you can barely hold yourself up."

"No, Why are you nice to me? Why are you acting like you care? Like you don't hate me?" She breathed, putting some distance between them.

"Perhaps I have my own reasons." He offered offhandedly. "Or perhaps it makes my job and Minerva's job easier if our staff is safe and not crumbling at a moment's notice."

She laughed. It was a cold, heartbroken sound. Hollow, and no mirth. "That is easier to understand. It's not about me, it's about you."

He wanted to correct her, but the sound that she had just made bothered him. "Let's get you up off the floor, Professor Granger."

He stood and reached his hands down to lift her from the floor. She took them with little hesitation, and he lifted her to her feet. Taking a step back, he gave her space to straighten herself out. The proximity was too close for his comfort as well. He touched his arm where her hand had been, and her blood had soaked into the wool. 

"Granger, your hand is bleeding. May I?" He offered, with his wand at the ready.

He waited until she offered her hand, and he ran a healing spell over it, closing the gash.

"Thank you." She mumbled, looking at the ground again. "What should I do now?"

"About?" He asked, cleaning his arm off with a spell.

"The Daily Prophet. Skeeter. I have no idea who her source is, but she needs to stop writing about me in her column. She's dragged you into this now."

Severus held up a finger to interrupt her. "You, Professor, need to focus on getting your self together. I will handle Ms. Skeeter, as she has seen fit to drag me through the mud with you."

He watched as the color drained from her face, making her look more yellow. "You don't have to, she will only take that the wrong way?"

"What way is that?" He asked her, squaring his shoulders. What on earth was this witch blathering on about? Surely she understood that he could handle a bit of bad press. He'd been doing it much of his life.

"Like you are defending me. Like you care what Skeeter says."

He gave her a stern look. "Miss Granger, I do not care how she takes it, as long as she keeps my name out of that green ink of hers. Do you prefer your rooms or the Headmistress's office? I shall escort you, but we need to make haste, my first class starts in moments, and I dread to think about what they can get into unattended."

"I can walk myself. You needn't make yourself late on my account."

"I do not recall that being an option, Miss Granger." He was not going to let her flounder around the castle. Severus wanted to make sure she had privacy to recovery if nothing else. 

"My rooms then. I'll firecall Minerva when I am ready."

"Indeed." He turned, holding his hand out before him. "After you."

He escorted her all the way to her quarters, not saying anything, only pondering what had happened.

He felt unsettled. He'd reacted to her anguish in a way he'd not expected. Comfort was not in his wheelhouse, but he somehow had managed to get Granger to calm. It perplexed him. It also highlighted something else that confused him. 

Granger did not flinch when he touched her.

Not once.

In every physical interaction, he had seen her in since her arrival, she had flinched. Now, when she was vulnerable and falling apart, and he was in dangerous proximity to her, but she did not react in terror. Severus knew that could mean any number of things. He wanted to know which one thing it was, though.

His classes seemed to glide by, and he fell into the practiced ease of teaching. Even when he had much on his mind. Classes made up for missing practicals the day before today, and since it was a Friday, he decided that a bit of dueling club was in order. He sent out a notice at lunch that any club members were invited to attend during his planning period.

Dueling Club was something he found he enjoyed in his time at Hogwarts. Once he'd taken the post, he was adamant that it be started again, with him as the instructor. Many of the students that came through the club had needed it in one form or another. Muggleborns were afraid of what would happen if they were cornered by purists, children of death-eaters wanting to know how to prepare for the time someone would come to exact payment for their fathers' sins. It was a way of making sure that if something devastating like this ever happened again, that he was training a generation to stand and fight. It was much of what his classes were anyways, in a much more hands-on format.

Severus only allowed 2nd years and higher. 1st year would have to go through their first year of his classes before they were considered capable. While dueling was mandatory in his courses at certain times for the curriculum, he felt the extra time was where many students benefited. It also allowed him to see where he needed to improve the skills of some students. Today, he would allow four platforms at a time to be dueling.

He knew that most of his students were aware that if they wanted to earn points from him, they would need to excel. Every defeat earned a student fifteen points for their house, and every loss took away five points. It was just enough stakes to keep them competitive. He found students with something to lose or prove tended to work harder. The older students would help him watch over the duels while they waited for their turns on the platforms. If they were granted that privilege during club, they instantly gained 30 points for their house. But Severus only appointed those who were skilled and 5th year or higher as dueling prefects.

Severus was pleased with how the club went, and it elevated his mood for the rest of the day. It had also given him an idea.

Perhaps Miss Granger would need a similar stake to improve her wellbeing. She seemed to have lost the notion that she had something to prove or to lose.

Severus wondered if it were possible to get one or both of those things back for her.

* * *

At dinner time, he decided to skip it. He had other more pressing matters to attend to. The sooner he made this visit, the sooner he could retire for some much-needed sleep. 

Donning his cloak, Severus exited the castle and apparated himself to Diagon Alley. It would have been more accessible to firecall he supposed, but there was a reason he wanted to do it this way. If he was seen, it would be noted that he'd been in Diagon, a solid alibi.

The vibrant pink light coming from the doors of Secluded Delights was hard to miss, as was the gathering line of 'gentlemen' outside. It was a Friday night, it was sure to be packed. He was not looking forward to this foray into an overly drunk crowd. Marching past the general admission line, he went directly to the VIP line, giving the man there a stern look.

"Name." The bouncer asked with boredom, hardly glancing at him.

"I am here to see Mr. Malfoy." Severus crossed his arms, unimpressed.

"Mr. Malfoy is not entertaining any guests at this time. Are you on the list?" The man hit the list with his hands, looking at it, rather than the man he was talking to.

"You will send someone to inform Mr. Malfoy that his godfather, Severus Snape, is here, right now." Severus leveled a harsh glare at the man. This time the man reacted, actually looking at Severus.

"Mr. Snape. Go on ahead, I will send word ahead, Mr. Malfoy is in his office." The man offered to move the rope. Severus walked past him without another word into the loud and disorienting music. He had been here before when Draco was building the club, so he knew where he headed. Moving past the drunks in the club did prove tedious, but Severus was not deterred.

Climbing the stairs and walking through the door that said Staff Only, Severus found himself in a quieter waiting room. 

Draco was standing there, looking healthy and happy, curiously smiling. Severus could see that the young man was trying to determine what had brought him there. 

"Severus, it is good to see you. I wasn't expecting a visit, especially not after today's article." Draco offered, turning and gesturing for him to follow him into his office. "Can I get you a drink?"

"No, thank you, Draco. I'm here on a matter of business." Severus offered, once in the room, with the door closed.

Draco turned to look at him curiously. "What matter of business could bring you here?"

"You owe me a favor, and I have come to collect," Severus said quietly, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of Draco's desk. 

Severus peered around the room. He'd not been in here since before it was decorated. It showed that the boy had at least inherited his mother's good taste. It was mostly dark wood and white upholstered furniture, with charcoal grey walls and gold splashes to keep the room from being dreary and bleak. It suited his godson, who was a stark contrast in his black suit with white hair. 

"What are you asking of me? Do I get to know what it is about first?" Draco said, sitting behind his desk and folding his hands in front of him. If it were not for Draco's shorter hair and lazy body language, he looked like his father's near spitting image when he was this age.

"Ronald Weasley. He is a patron, right?"

"I knew it, I knew it had to be about their divorce! How'd you get mucked up in this, you hate them both?" Draco asked, leaning forward, his face eager for the gossip at hand.

"Miss Granger is a member of my staff, and this situation reflects poorly on the school and now me as well."

"I'm mad for the asking, but is it true, have you been giving Granger the shaft behind everyone's back."

Severus made a face. "Don't be crude, Draco. I'm not interested in Miss Granger, nor has there been something of any nature, carnal or otherwise going on. I hadn't set eyes on the woman in six and a half years before Tuesday."

Draco nodded. "I thought so, Skeeter is just looking for blood in the water. However, I can't tell you who is a patron here and who isn't."

"Draco. Believe me, when I say this, you do not want to be protecting this man." Severus expressed, placing his hand on Draco's desk.

Draco looked offended. "I'm protecting my business, not him. I worked too hard for those two to destroy it."

"And I worked very hard for the money I gave you to start this venture; when your father told you it was foolish and a waste," Severus replied, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers. 

"It seems like we are at an impasse. I am calling in a favor, and you seem to be denying me. Would you like your mother to know exactly how her 3000-year-old Egyptian canopic jar actually got broken?"

Draco made a face, and he growled. "That's blackmail Severus, I thought we were above that."

"No, you are above that. I never made such a claim."

"Fine, he is a patron, but don't you tell anyone I told you. Is that all you wanted?" Draco asked, rubbing his forehead.

Severus smiled and shook his head. "Hardly, I want him barred from here, and I want it to be known that you are baring him under evidence that he was physically abusive to one of your girls."

"Merlin, Severus, you will need to give me more information before I agree to that. What is honestly going on?"

Severus looked at the fireplace in the room, not at his godson. He was about to touch on a tender topic, but he knew that he could get through to him. "Do you remember the way Granger looked at you when she was being tortured? Did she look defeated, did her eyes show weakness? Did she beg?"

Draco blanched and got up, moving to his sidebar with haste. "I will need a drink for this sort of conversation, it seems."

"By all means." Severus intoned, not looking at his godson. 

It was quiet, except the tinkling of glass as Draco poured himself a drink. Once he took a deep sip, Severus watched him from the corner of his eyes. 

Draco also looked at the fire as he spoke quietly. "No, she didn't. She was angry, she was scared, but Granger never stopped fighting, even when she was crying. What's this got to do with that?" 

Severus shared a look with his godson, conveying the seriousness of the situation. "I cannot divulge facts as I am not supposed to be privy to them. But I will tell you that Mr. Weasley has done something to Miss Granger to take the fight out of her eyes."

"What do you mean," Draco asked, standing at the fireplace and looking at him. 

Severus exhaled and considered for a moment how much he wanted Draco's involvement. He knew the boy could keep a secret. He knew the boy had similar notions on the ordeal and knew that Draco would assist him in any way Draco and his reputation could, as long as he had the facts.

It was a risk worth taking. And Severus was too tired from not yet sleeping to play guessing games with Draco.

"Miss Granger is divorcing Mr. Weasley because, according to my sources, he tried to kill her last summer. According to information, I haven't confirmed myself, Weasley's been abusing her since the beginning of the relationship. The woman that is at my school teaching is a shell of the woman who you went to school with." Severus explained his tone even and dangerous.

Draco sat down slowly in the chair next to him, his hand on his forehead. "Merlin, Circe, and Morrigan, are you serious?"

"Would I ever make a joke of this nature, Draco?" 

His godson looked at him, and Severus waited for a response. 

"No, not your style. So, what are we doing? Are we destroying his reputation, finances, or are you just going to make him disappear?"

Severus shook his head. "Right now, I am making sure that he cannot get to another woman he can force into silence. Talk to his regular girls, offer them an incentive to come forward if Weasley has done anything against the rules. I am sure you will find that he has either hurt or paid someone off to keep quiet. Contact Ms. Vane and see if she wants the information for her magazine."

"Done. I don't care how much Granger was a prat, I'm not letting that kind of behavior stand when I can do something. And I won't have that ruining Delights' Reputation. Anything else? Name it, and if it's in my power or my influence, it's done." Draco said, going to his desk and taking notes.

Severus let him take his notes, sitting and watching as the young man went to work. After a moment, Draco looked up at him.

"Where does Potter fall in this?" 

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am not sure, but I will be finding out tomorrow. I intend to pay the Potters a visit."

"I doubt Harry would stand for this if he knew. He's not that kind of bloke. He was here one night for a special event and knocked out a chav cold for forcing one of my waitresses into his lap. It's possible he doesn't know."

Severus snorted, shaking his head. "It is also possible that he does and has turned a blind eye to it."

"I'm not saying that he is a close friend, but I doubt that, based on what I know."

"Did you think that Weasley was the type?" Severus asked, trying to prove a point.

Draco seemed to think for a moment and then nodded. "He's got the temper, the jealous nature. It doesn't surprise me a whit. It surprises me that she allowed herself to stay with it."

"I suppose you are right." The point Severus had been trying to point out had fallen back in his lap. When Draco offered his answer, it did make sense about Weasley.

"Anything else I can help you with, Severus?" Draco asked, obviously wanting to go on with his night now. He had started the paperwork to expel Ronald Weasley from his club permanently.

Severus nodded in agreement, giving his godson a small but devious smile. 

"One more thing, who finances the Daily Prophet, and do you have contact?"


	8. Friends in Unlikely Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

She had no location in mind, just a desire to escape. Her heart climbed in her throat as she choked back tears. She tore past students at full tilt, doing her best to not run into anyone. The castle did not seem to stop her, the staircases moving to lead her up. She ran until there was no more ground to run across.

Looking around, she found herself in the highest tower in the school. 

Reaching the edge, she grabbed ahold of the railing that was there, using it support her as sobbed her heart out.

Everything hurt.

Breathing, thinking, existing.

Hermione wished it would stop; she wanted to stop hurting. She wanted to go somewhere where no one could find her, and she could have a semblance of normalcy.

Circe, she hated Skeeter, more now than she had as a young girl. The woman had always painted her in the worst light.

Why had she latched on to the hardest part of Hermione’s life like a lamprey? Why was she insistently printing whatever madness that Ron was sending her?

She knew it had to be Ron or someone acting for him. It was revenge. He was trying to hurt Severus for saving her and hurt her in the process. 

Merlin, Severus hated her before this.

How could she have thought that she could just step into a new life and get no one would get caught in the crossfire?

Her body shook. Her head was pounding as she felt all the pain being squeezed out of her heart through her eyes.

Then she heard him, the man whose life it seemed she was going to ruin twice. 

“Miss Granger.”

Hermione had to convince him she wasn’t apart of this. She didn’t want him to suffer because of her, of her failures and mistakes.” Merlin, I am so sorry. I know, I know, you must hate me more. I swear I had nothing to do with that… that lie,-” Her chest inflamed with anger as she thought more about what had been said. “-Why can’t they just **leave me alone, haven’t I suffered enough! haven’t I given enough!”** _I have given everything, what is there left of me that they could want…_ She thought and was interrupted by Severus again.

“Miss Granger.”

“Yes!?” She yelled, trying to speak through the crying that had no signs of stopping.

Why did he have to come after her? Couldn’t she have any peace? Didn’t she deserve peace?

Hermione could see the anger in his eyes, and she prepared for the onslaught of his rage as best she could.

“Where is your child?”

Her heart stopped. She drew back a step, her hands coming up to her face. 

Of course, he would ask that. Hermione’s own private hell couldn’t even be private. 

She felt herself sinking, all the air feeling like it was taken out of her lungs. She couldn’t get enough air, and she felt Severus catch her elbow. She was inhaling, but no breath came. Her skin was coated in sweat, and it was like something was pressing down on her chest. She met his eyes, suddenly desperate for air.

“Severus, I can’t…” was all she could manage as she held on to his arm as she collapsed. She was trying to get enough air, she was sucking it in as fast as she could, but it wasn’t enough. She felt dizzy, and everything was foggy and distant, and she didn’t know if any of this was even real.

She could see him moving his lips, his hands holding her up, but she couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her heart. Everything was too loud, too raw. Everything was wrong, and there was nothing she could do to fix, she’d already failed, there was no fixing it.

Then he said her name.

“Hermione. Breathe. IN. Hold. Out.”

Not Granger, not Miss or Missus Granger, Hermione. This had to be a dream or a nightmare. 

He held her face and was empathetically breathing in and out slowly.

It took her a moment to realize that no, this wasn’t a dream; he was really there, trying to help her breathe.

She locked her eyes with him, trying to do as he was doing. It was so hard, her chest burned and screamed for more air as she forced herself to match his breathing pattern. Her throat was raw, and each inhalation of cold air was like tiny knives dragging down it. He let go of her face, and she could feel his hands on her side, keeping her from falling over. 

Hermione didn’t pay it any attention; she just focused on his breathing, matching it. Her heart began to slow down, and while everything still hurt, the urgent feeling of danger seemed to recede with each exhale. She was trembling, either from the cold or the exertion, she wasn’t sure.

“Miss Granger. Are you capable of speech now?” He asked her firmly, and Hermione managed to nod, still copying his pattern of breathing.

“I’m sorry.” She pushed out.

He shook his head as he spoke. “This episode is of little consequence at the moment. Can you answer my question.”

_His question? Oh, his question._ Her heart tightened, and she had to swallow back a sob. He was right there, waiting for an answer, and she knew that he would not stop asking until she told him something.

But how could she tell him? She didn’t want to think about it; she didn’t want to go back to that place. 

But she had to tell him something, but there weren’t any words at her disposal.

“I can’t. I-, you don't-, Severus-, you don’t understand.”

Hermione was so confused when his face softened with his voice. “Miss Granger, if your child is out there in danger or being kept from you, I do not need to understand, I simply need to know where I need to go find them.”

 _Oh Circe, he thinks he’s alive…_ She felt the sob overtaking her as she covered her face, her shoulders shaking with the continued tears. How Hermione wished she could point Severus in a direction, and he’d bring back what had been lost. 

“I was. But I’m not. Not anymore. Please, don’t ask any more questions.” She pleaded.

_Where were you five months ago?..._ She shivered and remembered that he was here living happily without her, causing him to be bothered. He didn’t really care, he just acted on some sense of nobility and justice, thinking someone had taken her child from her. It was just a bother; she was just a nuisance that had ruined his solitude. 

He looked at her like he was going to keep pushing, that expression of concern evident. _It was another mask..._ She told herself. As if he could sense what she said, his appearance returned to the impassive expression that he wore best.

He let her go, backing up. 

“Very well. I suggest you take leave of your classes today. As Deputy Headmaster, I am relieving you of your duties until tomorrow. You aren’t in a state to teach.” He said with no room for argument.

This was strange. Severus was still acting like it mattered that she was a mess. He should be yelling at her to get herself together and get to her classes. _Why was he doing this?_

“I-, why?” She asked before she considered it.

He seemed incredulous. “Why? Because you are clearly distressed, and it will not be conducive to your students or you to try to teach when you can barely hold yourself up.”

She shook her head, scooting back from him, her back against the railing she’d leaned against beforehand. Of course, when it mattered, he would act oblivious. “No, Why are you nice to me? Why are you acting like you care? Like you don’t hate me?” 

“Perhaps I have my own reasons. Or perhaps it makes my job and Minerva’s job easier if our staff is safe and not crumbling at a moment’s notice.”

There it was, the real reason. Hermione laughed at herself for thinking for a moment that it had anything to do with her.

Of course, it didn’t. She didn’t deserve the time of day. She was just making his life hard.

“That is easier to understand. It’s not about me, it’s about you.”

He said nothing to correct her. At least she could be right about something now.

“Let’s get you up off the floor, Professor Granger.”

Hermione took his hands when he offered them, letting him pull her up from the floor. She’d not realized how strong the man was until now, as it felt like he could have lifted her right off her feet. It was a far cry from the man who she had to move his legs for him so they wouldn’t atrophy while he was recovering. 

He took another step back, and she began to rub her face and fix her robes. She was a right mess, and her clothes didn’t even fit her right anymore, so she had to make sure that her trousers were still secured with her belt.

“Granger, your hand is bleeding. May I?” She heard him ask, and she looked at her hand before looking at his wand.

Feeling foolish, she let him heal her hand.

“Thank you. What should I do now?” Hermione asked, not even sure why she was asking him. It was likely he was going to tell her to figure it out herself.

“About?” He replied, and she watched him clean her blood off his clothes.

“The Daily Prophet. Skeeter. I have no idea who her source is, but she needs to stop writing about me in her column. She’s dragged you into this now.” Hermione offered, wincing as she thought about how many people would see that letter.

He stopped her with a gesture. “You, Professor, need to focus on getting your self together. I will handle Ms. Skeeter, as she has seen fit to drag me through the mud with you.”

He couldn’t be serious. If he went marching up to Skeeter demanding a retraction, she’d use it as more fire to condemn them. If that vile woman even had half an idea that he cared, she’d run it into the ground and him with it. “You don’t have to; she will only take that the wrong way?”

“What way is that?” Severus asked her, and the way he moved made her shift away from him. He was angry again; she could see it in his gaze.

Hermione sighed. “Like you are defending me. Like you care what Skeeter says.”

“Miss Granger, I do not care how she takes it, as long as she keeps my name out of that green ink of hers. Do you prefer your rooms or the Headmistress’s office? I shall escort you, but we need to make haste, my first class starts in moments, and I dread to think about what they can get into unattended.”

She withered under his gaze, and she didn’t wish to raise his ire any more.

“I can walk myself. You needn’t make yourself late on my account.” Hermione explained, gathering herself up in her arms, preparing to walk back to her rooms alone.

“I do not recall that being an option, Miss Granger.” 

His answer surprised him, and she resigned herself to having to make a choice. “My rooms then. I’ll firecall Minerva when I am ready.”

“Indeed. After you.”

Hermione walked ahead of him, which made her uncomfortable. The hair on the back of her neck was up. She strained to hear his movements, anything to prepare her. She was all too happy to be back in her rooms and away from his scrutiny.

But once she was alone, she realized it was the last thing she wanted in the world. Her mind began to go over the many possibilities of how badly this could turn out. She set her wards up again, determined to make herself feel as safe as she could manage.

  
When she finally felt like she was safe enough, she sat on her bed.   
That was when she noticed it. 

A letter was sitting on the bedside table. Hermione hadn’t remembered putting it there. Grabbing it, she recognized the hasty and messy script as Harry’s writing.

  
**Hermione,**  
**I don’t know what is going on, but I want to come to see you. I need to know you are okay. I’m off work today, and I’ll be up all night, firecall me if you are up for a chat.**  
**All my love,**  
**Harry**

**PS: Ginny and the kids send love too, and Ginny says if her brother is being a git, she can beat him up for you.**

  
She put the letter down, looking at the fireplace and then the message, wondering if she was ready for this. 

Harry had been so busy with his life, she’d not bothered him with this after the first time she left Ron. Harry had a family, two beautiful children, and Hermione didn’t want to upset that with her troubles.

But she also knew Harry, and if he wanted to come to see her, there would be little she could do to keep him away. If she didn’t firecall him, he’d firecall Minerva next, and she couldn’t bear the both of them right now. 

Fear seized her heart because Ron had always told her that Harry would choose Ron over her because they were mates first. What if it were true. Hermione wasn’t sure she could handle that heartbreak. Not now, when everything felt so very raw. 

No, this was Harry she was thinking about. He’d not abandon her. He’d never left her behind yet. He promised her no matter what, he was always in her corner.

Holding on to that thought, she moved to the fireplace. Grabbing some floo powder, she threw it into the fire. “Potter Residence.”

The fire burst green, and then she saw the messed up hair and the lopsided grin of one of her best friends. 

“Hey Mione, that was fast. Can I come in?”

“Yes.” She offered quietly.

She watched as the fire warped to admit Harry into her room. He took one look at her and was suddenly in her space, fingers reaching to touch her face. It was then that she realized that the concealing magic must have worn off already. The bruise from Ron’s strike must have begun to show.

“Merlin, love, what happened, who did this?” His voice was worried, and she struggled against tears.

“Harry.” She whispered, taking his hands from her face into hers. She gave them a tight squeeze. Green eyes pierced hers, and he saw darkness swirl in them as Harry seemed to come to a conclusion.

“Hermione, who did this?” He asked firmly.

She swallowed hard, tears creeping down over her cheeks. She looked at Harry, trying desperately to vocalize it, but fear had her voicebox in its grip, and all she could do was squeak over the tears. 

Harry sensed her distress and pulled her head to his chest, enveloping her in a hug.

She held him tight and broke down for the second time in as many hours.

It was different now than in the tower with Snape, because she felt truly safe.

Nothing in the world would be able to hurt her with Harry there. She’d forgotten how much she desperately missed her best friend as he rocked her and rubbed her back. For the first time in a long time, she felt she might be okay if she stayed there in his hug for long enough.

“Hermione, I want you to nod if I am right and shake if I am wrong. Can you do that?” He asked softly, his hand rubbing circles in her back as she clung to him. 

She nodded.

“Good. Is Romilda Vane right? Did Ron do this? Has he been hurting you?” He asked quietly.

She sobbed as she nodded, and she felt his arms tighten around her. She wondered what Romilda had told him, but she couldn’t vocalize it.

“Is this the first time since the time you told me he hit you when you first broke up?” Harry whispered into her hair.

She shook her head, and she could feel his breath quicken.

“Has this been going on since you went back to him?”

She nodded.

“Oh, Hermione, you stubborn woman.” He whispered into her hair, rocking her as she cried.

He held her like that for a long time, until she was quietly sniffing. 

“I dread to ask this, but did he ever actually stop? Or did you lie to me and tell me he was getting better?” Harry asked, standing now and rubbing his forehead.

She rubbed her neck, looking at the ground. “He had been trying to get better. And then he got worse. And I left, and then he got better, and then I came back, and it just spiraled out of control.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” His green eyes looked hurt, and she grimaced.

“He is your brother in law and your best friend, and it wasn’t that way all the time. I just needed to be more careful and quiet and not annoy him so much. I’m sorry. I tried so hard to do everything right. I tried. I wanted to be the best wife, the best friend. I love him, but I can’t seem to do anything right in his eyes.” She had no more tears to cry, but her body shook with the tears that refused to come.

Harry was kneeling before her, hands on her knees, looking up at her. “No, no, no. Hermione, you know that is not true. You have to know in your heart of hearts that you did nothing to deserve this. Merlin knows you tried to save him. When Fred died, we all know something in him broke. It’s not your fault.”

“Then why is he better when I am not there?” She sobbed, grabbing his hands.

“Because that is how addiction works.” He offered, and she could tell he was trying to calm her down. That was when the fire flared up again, and Ginny Potter stepped out of it. 

“Harry have you asked her if she wants to pop by for-” The redheaded woman stopped, and Hermione didn’t dare look at her. She wasn’t sure how Ginerva would take the news that Harry was surely going to tell her.

She heard Harry whisper to his wife. “Gin. It’s what we thought.”

Suddenly Hermione was wrapped in a hug by Ginny, her firm arms around her shoulders. Hermione flinched, but Gin held on to her. 

_They’d already talked about it; they thought this was going on?_ She thought to herself as she was hugged, confused.

“You daft woman, why didn’t you say something? I will kick his arse from here to Durmstrang and back. Harry, did it just start again?” Ginny asked, not letting go of Hermione. 

“I’ll tell you more about it when we get home. But, your brother has a lot to answer for.” 

Hermione could hear the anger in Harry’s voice. 

Hermione sobbed again.

“I don’t want to start trouble in your family. You have so much to worry about. You’ve got James and Lily and work, and I don’t need you to jeopardize it over me. I’ll be fine, I’m safe here. I can’t have you do something you would regret, either of you.” She pleaded, and she was gently rocked.

“Hermione, if you think I am going to let my brother be a wife-beater and not pay for it, you may not be as bright as we think,” Ginny whispered. Hermione could feel wet tears in her hair and hear it in Ginny’s voice. 

She stood, needing to get space and untangle herself because it was getting to be too much for her. 

“I just want to have him leave me be and for the divorce to go through and start my life again. Please, don’t get him riled up. He’s already so mad I think he might try to kill me again.” Her hands came up over her mouth, and she realized what she’d just said. 

Harry and Ginny both looked at her like she’d sprouted another head. Harry’s eyes nearly turned black with how angry he became. 

“He did what? When did he try to kill you, Mione?” Harry asked, hands tight at his side. Ginny looked like she was about to explode; her face was so red. 

_Oh fuck…_ Hermione thought, having not been prepared for this conversation. 

“I- I’m too tired to go into it today. But I tried to leave Ron last summer, and he didn’t take it well. I can’t talk about it more than that, because I am not- I can’t. My head hurts, I’m tired, and I just want to try to sleep. Severus relieved me of classes today.” She pleaded, and they both seemed to relax a touch at her pleading.

“Did the Prophet have any facts this morning?” Ginny asked, and Harry touched his wife’s hand.

Hermione shook her head, sighing. “No, Severus and I haven’t even seen each other since when he threw me out of his hospital room after the trial. I don’t know who she’s talking to.”

She watched them share a look and then look back at her.

“You are coming for tea tomorrow. I will come to get you. “Harry said, giving her no option to say no.

“I’ll make sure Ron doesn’t know you’re there,” Ginny said, looking both angry and sad.

“Thank you; I will come to tea.” Hermione offered, hoping that it would be enough for her to get them to let her try to rest.

“Okay, then we’re going to get back to the kids, they are napping, so they are safe with us both here, you rest.” Gin offered, moving toward the fireplace. 

Harry led her to the fireplace and whispered to her before she stepped through. She seemed to agree, nodding, and disappearing into green flame.

“Hermione, before I go, I need you to give me a wand oath,” Harry said, his face serious.

She looked at the ground and frowned before looking back up at him. “Over what?”

“You will promise me that if he hurts you again, you will tell me as soon as possible. And that you will not hide these kinds of things from me. You are like the sister I never had Hermione; I can’t lose you. You never turned your back on me, even when it would have been easier. I am not going to let you face this alone, no matter how stubborn you are.”

It took her a few moments, but she got her wand, holding it up. “I, Hermione Granger, hereby swear to you Harry Potter, to agree to your terms.”

He seemed satisfied and gave her another hug before heading to the fire.

He reached his arms through, and another set of arms put a mean-looking orange cat in his arms. 

“Crookshanks!” Hermione gasped, rushing forward and summoning the beast up into her arms. “I am so sorry I left you at Harry’s for so long, I’m so sorry.”

“I assumed that when you dropped him off this summer, it wasn’t because the kids would love to have a cat around. I just didn’t know why then. He was miserable without you.” Harry smiled at her, and she smiled back.

For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt warm, and love and a touch of happiness as the big cat began to purr and nudge her. She held him tightly, rubbing her face into his fur as she spoke.

“Ron threatened to kill him; I couldn’t-”

Harry held his hand up. “It’s okay, love, you can have your cat back now. Also, he hates my kids. He hides from them in my office.”

She gave him a laugh, kissing the cat’s head. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“I’ll do the same for you too, Hermione. Get some sleep. Remember, you gave me an oath.” Harry said, waving his wand carelessly.

“I know, I will let you know if I have any more problems. Goodbye, Harry, don’t do anything crazy.”

“You know everything I do turns out crazy somehow. I will see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Hermione.”

Harry stepped into the fireplace, and Hermione was glad that the conversation was over. 

Moving to the bed, she set Crookshanks down, and he purred loudly, pressing his head up against her.

“I know I missed you too.” 

Changing into more comfortable, but run ready clothing, she set her charms and crawled into the bed. 

Her cat laid across her chest, rubbing his face along her face as he pressed his paws happily into her chest. It was comforting and warm, and she ran her fingers through his fur lazily. She closed her eyes and fell asleep so quickly that she didn’t even realize it happened.

* * *

When she woke up, it was dark outside. A spell told her it was 1 in the morning. Crookshanks was still asleep across her chest, and she pushed him so that she could go to the bathroom. 

Sixteen hours. She’s slept for sixteen hours straight. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten so much sleep. She couldn’t remember any nightmares either; no quick starts in the night from a noise. Maybe having her cat back was what she needed to get some rest. 

She took a shower quickly, changing into pajamas. It felt good, her body ached from being in one spot for so long, but her head wasn’t so foggy. Her stomach grumbled, and she realized it was also sixteen hours since she’d had anything at all to eat or drink.

“Hello, is there a house-elf listening?” She asked quietly. 

A pop before her and there was a house-elf wearing a party hat. “Yes Professor Granger, what can I get for you?”

“I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, can you please bring me some tea and some toast and jam and a piece of fruit. Please.”

“It is never a bother Professor. All you need to do is call for Queenie, that’s me, and I will be happy to serve you, day or night. I will be right back.”

The little house-elf apparated away, and Hermione sat in the highback chair, waiting patiently. Crookshanks hopped up on to the back of the chair, his tail flicking and brushing up against her hair.

“You get to be king of the castle again.” She mused and smiled when the house-elf returned with her food. 

“Queenie brought you something for your cat too, Professor. Some milk. Do you need anything else, Professor?”

“No, thank you so much, Queenie.”

“You are welcome, Professor.”

And like that, Hermione was alone again. She looked up at the beast on the back of her chair. Not exactly alone. 

She smiled, drinking her tea. “Maybe something good can come from this. Harry doesn’t hate me; he gave you back to me. Maybe Harry can get Rita Skeeter to stop printing rubbish about me. Maybe there is hope for a new life for me.”

Hermione ate everything brought to her, letting Crookshanks perch on the end table to drink the warm milk he’d been delivered. She didn’t feel tired anymore, so she opened her bag and pulled out one of her books. Crookshanks curled up into her lap, dozing off as she spent the rest of the morning getting lost in the book. 

It was the first morning in a long time that she felt pleasant greeting the sunrise. She’d asked Queenie for coffee, and she wrapped herself in a cloak, standing on the balcony and watching the light dance off the surface of the lake. She’d had no idea how much she needed a good sleep. Everything felt sharper, more in focus. The coffee warmed her, and Hermione Granger, for a moment, felt like herself again.

Once her coffee was finished, it was time to dress for breakfast. She wasn’t going to let anything, no matter what the Prophet printed today, ruin the good mood she’d been graced with.

Crookshanks mewed at her, and she pat his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, and we can snuggle again. And I won’t even take you to Harry’s with me.”

Hermione thought over the book she’d been reading as she walked to breakfast. She actually felt a bit hungry this morning. Taking her seat next to Professor Anadora, she smiled at her. She nodded at Professor Snape, who was once again watching her.

“You had me worried, my dear, after you fled out of her like that, and I hadn’t seen you all day yesterday,” Maria said, and Hermione took a sip of her coffee.

“I do apologize for the worry. I actually managed quite a bit of sleep. I slept through lunch and dinner and woke up early this morning.”

Maria took another bite of her meal, chewing and swallowing before speaking. “Well, that is good, Hermione, you’ve had such a hard time adjusting to this teaching schedule. You seem to be a night owl.”

“No, just a bookworm, the amount of light doens’t matter as long as I have a candle.” She offered with a hint of laughter.

Professor Anadora gave her an amused smile, looking her over. “You are in a good mood; I think all that sleep did you some good.”

Hermione nodded, taking a bite of a waffle. “It feels like it. I am sorry for leaving you to all the classes yesterday.”

“It is nothing; I am just glad that the rubbish that the Prophet printed didn’t do you any serious harm,” Anadora spoke, shaking her head at the mention of the paper.

Hermione did feel a sinking of her spirit at the mention but straightened her shoulders. She was going to have a good day today. “At the moment, I was devastated-”

She was interrupted by Anadora. 

“Of course you would be, how could someone think to just draw you up in a relationship based on proximity. And to ascribe you to someone so much your senior, how tasteless. When you were younger, he was your teacher, which has added, how do you say it in English, perversity to it?”

  
“Ahem.” Severus said, rather loudly.

Hermione looked to her side, realizing that Severus was sitting there listening and had politely reminded them that their conversation wasn’t private. She felt terrible, as she imagined he did hear what Maria was saying.

Anadora looked over to the man and held up an apologetic hand. “That is nothing against you, Severus. Of course, it is just unacceptable that they’d do it to either of you honestly. In America, papers can be sued for that kind of thing, even in the wizarding world. Slander is a universal crime.”

He didn’t answer, merely returning to his meal.

Hermione turned back to Maria, smiling. “Yes, well, there are routes here to do something, but the courts are slow in everything.”

She got a commiserating look from Maria. “Ah, yes, I can imagine.”

Hermione did not want to go into how she knew the courts were slow right now, so she changed the subject.

“Any plans for this weekend?”

Maria seemed to light up at the question. “Naldo is coming to see me. I’m going to go see him in Diagon Alley for dinner. I am so excited, I have seen him since school started.”

“Oh, that sounds nice. Why haven’t you seen him, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“It is no bother. Naldo works really hard, he’s trying to save up as much as he can for when our little boy comes. And he wants me to focus on taking care of myself and my work so that when I do come home, I don’t have to worry about anything.” Anadora explained, grinning.

Hermione felt a wave of jealously wash over her, but it was quickly pushed away. She had no reason to be jealous of the woman in front of her. In fact, she was happy because she was getting to do what she wanted.

“He sounds delightful; I hope you have a good dinner.” Hermione offered, finishing her waffle.

“And you, do you have plans for this weekend?” Maria asked.

Hermione shook her head. “Not really, might have tea with a friend, but mostly staying in the castle and reading over lesson plans.”

“All work and no play makes for a dull woman Hermione. Do try to do something fun, you seem like you could use it.”

“I’ll take it under consideration. No promises.”

Maria placed a hand on her hand with a smile. She stood up, stretching her back out. “Please do. I will see you tomorrow, I’m leaving for Diagon before lunch.”

“See you tomorrow.” Hermione offered, before eating one of the berries she’d placed on her plate.

It was the last thing she was able to eat, and she took a sip of her water. 

She was about to get up when Severus spoke to her. 

“Miss Granger.”

“Yes, Professor Snape.” She looked at him curiously. His face was impassive and as emotionless as ever.

“I wondered if I could persuade you, if you feel you could handle the extra work, of assisting me with Dueling Club.” He offered, and Hermione sat back down all the way, looking at him.

“You run the dueling club?”

“Yes, and I feel like a witch who knows her way around a duel would greatly benefit my students. You come with a different perspective.”

Hermione was confused, but she considered it. It would be something different, and she could teach defensive spells in her sleep if she needed to.

“I suppose I could assist you. What did you have in mind?”

“Good. We meet on Fridays during the planning period in my classroom. You will assist me in monitoring the students. And teaching them techniques that could save their lives if they ever end up in such a position that they need to defend themselves.”

“Alright then. I will see you there next Friday, then.”

“I shall see you there. Good day, Miss Granger.” He said, standing up and leaving ahead of her. She got up as well and walked out, and there was that awkward moment when they were walking the same direction but had already said goodbye. Hermione made the first turn she could, deviating and taking the long way to her rooms. 

In her room, Crookshanks was lying on her bed, lifting his head lazily as she walked in. She was getting ready to go to Harry’s when she noticed several letters on her side table. It was curious that they had not come to her at the table. 

Hermione picked them up and took a seat in her chair. 

The first one was from Harry, telling her he would be there as soon as they had both the kids up and dressed and fed. 

The second one had a familiar script on it, elegant and tall. It was from Romilda Vane and was on official Witch Weekly letterhead.

  
**Mrs. Hermione,**

**I know that something is going on between you and Prophet. Skeeter has gone off her rocker over your divorce request. I don’t know who is Skeeter’s sources are, but it’s not anyone in the usual channels. I’m looking into it because she gives those of us who want to print facts a lousy name.**  
**I am writing to you to find out if you want to give a statement on it for next week’s magazine. No pressure, and I understand if you don’t want to. But I want to provide you with a voice. Allow you to advocate for yourself when you are being slandered like this. I also offer the same to Professor Snape, should he like to comment. I am afraid to write to him, as the last time I asked him for any explanation, he insulted me less than five words. Still, if you wanted to let him know that offer stands, I would be ever so grateful.**  
**Also, I don’t know what happened between you and your husband. I won’t pry. But I’m telling you that if you ever want the world to know about it, reach out to me. You have my support and the support of the writers here at Witch Weekly. The publisher and I have already spoken. We will not be printing anything about your divorce without fact-checking with you. Or at your request, other than public information, such as your upcoming court date.**

**Please, stay safe, and remember you have friends in high and unlikely places.**

**With warmest regards,**  
**Ms. Romilda Vane**  
**Editor-in-Chief**  
**Witch Weekly**

  
Hermione didn’t know how to feel about this letter. It was relieving and confusing. She’d never thought that Romilda considered her a friend. Yes, they were once a part of the same book club. They had worked together on several articles to help get some of the magical creature legislation a favorable public opinion. But for her to take such a stance. It was overwhelming for Hermione to think that someone cared that much about her and her reputation.

Hermione looked at the next letter, and her excellent mood faltered a bit. It was from Molly.

Hermione took in a deep breath and opened the letter.

  
**Hermione!**

**How could you do this to my Ron? He said that he went to see you to try to talk things out at the school and that you had Severus hex him and toss him out of the school. That is not how you treat your husband. He was just trying to work things out with you. But obviously, you have decided that you’d instead try out Severus. How could you be cheating on my son for so long? This is not acceptable. I demand that you apologize to Ron and stop this nonsense of a divorce. He says that he has been trying everything he can to make you happy, and you are so uncompromising. You promised to love him and keep him for the rest of your days. I am so ashamed of you. If you do not make this right, you can consider yourself no longer a part of our family and not welcome at the burrow. Ron is absolutely beside himself. You’ve driven him right back to drinking, you know. This is all your fault.**

**Molly Weasley**

  
Hermione was shaking with tears by the time she was finished reading it. Ron had always said his mum would take his side. That she’d think he was the one being mistreated. It hurt her heart to read the words written in an angry hand. Molly had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions without facts, so Hermione knew she shouldn’t be so upset, but it still stung.

She had one last letter in her hand, and she was afraid to open it when she saw it was from Ron. Tendrils of fear rolled up her spine, and she had to try to breathe before she could open it. 

**I hope you enjoyed that. I really hope you got satisfaction from the pain that greasy git put me through. Because when I get my hands on you, I’ll have the same pleasure. I told you last year, if you ever tried to leave me again, what would happen. I thought I made my point very clear. I gave you a chance to come home and for me to forgive you for walking out again. That chance is over. You cannot stay in Hogwarts forever. No matter where you go, no matter who you are with or who tries to protect you, I am going to find you. I am going to bring you home. And you will never leave again. And if I find out that you have really been fucking him, I’ll kill him. Don’t think I won’t, you know I will.**

**-R**

  
Her stomach was tight with fear again. She felt her throat was constricting, keeping her from bringing in fresh ait. It was like she couldn’t breathe again. 

He was going to find her, and he was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and anyone who tried to help her. She was a danger to everyone!

She began sucking in the air again, her body shaking as she dropped the letters to the floor. Her face was wet with tears, but she was numb to everything else but the fear. She couldn’t breathe. It was happening again.

Hermione had to do something. She couldn’t have Harry come upon her like this. She closed her eyes, imagining Severus’s face there, breathing in slowly and out slowly like he’d done in the tower. Squeezing her eyes closed tightly, she tried remembering the rhythm, forcing herself to follow it. 

The feeling subsided, and she could breathe. The fear was there, but it was manageable. The rattling in her chest stilled. It surprised the hell out of her that it worked. 

It was then that the floo flashed up, and Harry walked in. He must have seen her sitting down, holding her knees with letters on the floor. 

“Mione, you okay?” He asked, and she held her hand up, nodding.

“Yea, just, reading some of my fanmail.” Her tone was so sarcastic that it would have given Severus a run for his money.

Harry came up and leaned on the chair. “Anything worthwhile?”

“Your mother in law wants me to go back to Ron and apologize. And Ron just sent me a letter threatening to find me and kill me. Oh, and Romilda Vane won’t print anything about the divorce without fact-checking with me.” She offered, trying to act like it was an everyday conversation. 

When she looked up at Harry, his eyes were hard and dark again. “Can I see the letters.”

Hermione nodded, and Harry bent over, picking them up. He handed the one from Romilda back to her, uninterested. He looked at the letter from Molly and made a noise that sounded like a Chinese fireball having a hairball.

“She has fallen for his lies, hook line and sinker,” Harry said, and Hermione nodded, trying to wipe her tears away.

“I know. I expected it. It still hurts.” Hermione managed, looking as he held the letter from Ron in the other hand.

She watched as he looked at it, and his expression was perplexed. He looked at her and the letter again. He turned it over, looking at her name in the front and then back around.

“Hermione, this letter is blank. It just has your name on it.” He said curiously, and she stood up, looking at it. She could see the letter just fine. 

“Shit. Ron secret spelled it for just me.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Why wouldn’t he use my defenses against me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I created a spell that would make it so that no one but the person who the letter was for could read it. It was for; it was for when I was planning my escape. I must have left my notes out, or he got a copy of it somehow.”

Harry looked confused and wrinkled his forehead. “So there really is a letter, but it’s like a secret kept house.”

“It’s exactly like a Fidelius charm. This means no one can see the words unless Ron tells them that there is a letter there. No one will believe me.” She cried, looking down at the floor again.

“Hey hey, I believe you. Ginny believes you. You aren’t alone.” He said, wrapping her in a hug. “Come on, Ginny is making something that smells wonderful for dinner, it has been cooking all morning, and the kids are very excited to see their aunt.”

Hermione put her head on his shoulder and nodded. “Yea, let’s go. Crookshanks hold down the fort.”

Flooing to Harry’s house, she barely landed in the living room before her legs were attacked. She had to curb the reaction to kick, but she had been prepared.

“AUNTIE! AUNTIE! AUNTIE! She’s here, Mummy, She’s here!”

Hermione had to catch her balance on the fireplace. On her legs were her niece and nephew, whose bright smiles and excited laughter made her smile. 

“Hello my loves, you need to let me walk or else we will all fall.”

“I’m in the kitchen!” Ginny yelled, and Hermione smiled, moving into the room as the kids let her go. 

Harry’s house had always been comfortable. It was warm, and you could tell it was full of love. His living room was covered in pictures of Harry, Gin, and the kids. He had a certain level of pride in being able to decorate with his kids. One wall had a curio full of Ginny’s trophies and awards and her first jersey from signing on with the Holyhead Harpies. It was surprising there wasn’t a game today, it was a Saturday, but Hermione wasn’t sure when Ginny played anymore. It’d been over two years since the last time she was at one of her sister-in-law Quidditch matches.

“Auntie, I drew this for you! Did you bring us presents?” James said, showing her a paper with an enthusiastic scribble on it. 

“Oh, I love it. I will put this up in my office. And no, sadly, not presents this time. But I will bring you something for Yule, I promise.” Hermione said, putting the picture in her beaded bag at her side.

“I want a nargle!” Lily shouted, and Hermione shook her head. She looked at Harry, and he laughed shrugging.

“Luna was over for a while; she was telling her all about them. Lily ate it up.”

“I can see that. Lily, it’s against the Department of Magical Creatures to own a Nargle. Can I get you something else?” Hermione asked, picking Lily up into her lap.

“I like flowers.”

“Done, I will bring you beautiful flowers for Yule. We can even pin them in your hair.”

“No fair, I want flowers in my hair!” James pouted, and Hermione picked him up, putting him on her other knee. They were heavier than she remembered.

“I will bring enough flowers for everyone, even mummy and daddy, if they want them.” She offered, grinning at Harry. Harry was smiling at her and shaking her head.

Ginny walked in at this time. “Why are you getting flowers?”

“To put in our hairs, mummy,” Lily answered cheerfully.

Ginny looked at Harry and snorted. “I want to see you after your daughter has done your hair.”

“Of course, you do, dear.” He said with very little humor in his voice.

The rest of the day for Hermione was relatively happy. 

She spent time playing with her niece and nephew and had a few moments with Harry and Ginny before making a snowman dance for the kids. It was almost like nothing was wrong. Hermione relaxed at their house. She smiled and laughed more than she had in the longest time. It felt good.

She decided to stay for dinner because the roast Ginny was cooking smelt delicious, and James and Lily had made her promise to stay. She helped set the table when the soft sound of a bell went off in the house. Ginny looked up, peeking out the kitchen window to see who had just apparated to their front gate.

“Harry.” She called, her hand going for her wand. Her tone was one of concern, and Hermione moved into the kitchen to see out the window. 

There was a long tall silhouette out at the garden gate. It looked like Severus from this distance, but he couldn’t be here, he was back at the school. He was pointing his wand at someone, Hermione couldn’t make it out. But there were definitely two people out there.

“Ginny, what is it? What’s wrong.” Harry asked, coming into the room with his wand drawn.

“You need to go out there. I think Severus Snape is about to kill my brother.”


	9. Enemies in Plain Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

  
Severus made several other stops while he was out in Diagon Alley, including checking in with the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed that Mr. Weasley wasn’t there, but according to the man, he often made an ass out of himself when he was. 

Many people glared at him as he moved through the Wizarding World’s buzzing nightlife, but it was no different to him than it had been seven years ago. 

His last stop was perhaps, the most cumbersome.

The Weasley twins, now twin singular, had opened a dreadfully cheery shop in the middle of Diagon. Severus looked so out of place in the building that even he felt a touch uncomfortable. It was moments before closing, and the shop was deserted.

“Welcome to Weasley Wizar-Professor?” George Weasley said, perplexed as Severus walked up to the young man.

“Good evening Mr. Weasley. I recall you once asking me if I would assist you with a certain alchemical process that you were having difficulties with. Do you still require assistance?” Severus asked, his tone professional and firm.

George Weasley had the good sense not to look wholly floored at him.

Good, perhaps this would not be as troublesome as he thought.

“Uh, yes. I had assumed that since you hadn’t answered me in two years, your answer was no, and I’d put the project aside, but it is easily rejuvenated.” Geroge said, and Severus nodded.

“I do have a condition for offering my services, Mr. Weasley.”

“Aye, and what is it?”

“You will provide me access to the flat you are currently sharing with your brother. No questions asked.” Severus said, crossing his arms.

George looked at him for a moment, his expression cautious. “If this is about what that bint Skeeter wrote, I don’t think it was him; he’s right torn up about it.”

“Mr. Weasley, have we got an agreement or not. I am wasting precious time I could be spending researching your problem by your floundering over a pompous windbag who seems to think I care what she thinks.” Severus asked, his face emotionless and yet impatient at the same time.

“Are you going to hurt him?”

Severus rose his eyebrows, questioning the young man. “Will I find a reason to hurt him there, Mr. Weasley?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m not going to let you sneak upon him.”

Severus scoffed. “If I wanted to sneak up on him, Mr. Weasley, I would hardly need your help, would I?”

George saw the point in his words. “I’ll agree, as long as you don’t get me kicked out of my flat over it.”

“I have no intention of doing that. I will require an oath of secrecy that you will not speak of this arrangement to anyone else under threat of pain. You may indulge that I am helping you with your project, but nothing else.” Severus asked, pulling out his wand.

George seemed to think about it and finally agreed after a few moments. Once Severus secured the wand oath and address of George Weasley’s flat, he bid the man farewell, asking him to have all the notes sent to him at Hogwarts, where he could have proper lab space.

It was nearly midnight by the time Severus made it back to the castle, and his body was not pleased with him going so long without sleep. It’d been a long time since he’d gone nearly two days without sleep. This, however, was worth it. He’s set enough wheels into motion that his plan was already set into action on his second front. 

Now he needed to figure out how to fix Miss Granger.

* * *

The alarm went off much too soon for his liking, but it was Saturday, and he had much to still. He took his time getting ready, trying to brace for whatever the day brought him. He’d requested that all his Prophets be delivered directly to his rooms now, rather than at breakfast.

He would not be the reason she had another meltdown at mealtime.

After preventing two boys from creating a mess by trying to transfigure their plates into throwing stars, he took his seat. Severus started his breakfast, eating a touch faster than usual in case something interrupted his meal.

When Granger walked in, she looked different. She was smiling, first off, which he’d not seen her honestly do since she’d arrived. She was also standing a bit straighter. The sleep must have done her a world of good, and she must have honestly slept. He nodded back at her as she greeted him, and he continued eating, observing her out of the corner of his eye.

He watched as Granger put more food on her plate than average. _Peculiar._

There was no way that a singular day of sleep could improve so much. 

Severus tried not to listen as Maria inquired into Miss Granger’s health. He noticed when she laughed in her words, which was encouraging to him in a way. This laughter had amusement, too, meaning that there was still room for laughter under everything she’d been through.

It wasn’t until the topic of the Prophet came up that he was actively listening.

“It is nothing; I am just glad that the rubbish that the Prophet printed didn’t do you any serious harm.” Anadora shook her head in shame as she spoke. He was watching Granger for reactions. Her shoulders seemed to drop just a touch before she righted them.

“At the moment, I was devastated-”

She was interrupted by Anadora. Severus was irritated for her sake. 

“Of course you would be, how could someone think to just draw you up in a relationship based on proximity. And to ascribe you to someone so much your senior, how tasteless. When you were younger, he was your teacher, which has added, how do you say it in English, perversity to it?”

Severus was exactly pleased with how Professor Anadora was putting the situation.

“Ahem,” Severus said, rather loudly to make sure that they both heard him.

It was one thing to have a private conversation about him, quite another to do so in front of him. 

The younger witch seemed to get his hint and began to apologize to him. “That is nothing against you, Severus. Of course, it is just unacceptable that they’d do it to either of you honestly. In America, papers can be sued for that kind of thing, even in the wizarding world. Slander is a universal crime.”

Now that she seemed to understand her blatant rudeness, he went back to eating. He was still listening, but nothing had piqued his interest or made him concerned. He wondered who Hermione was having tea with, but he recalled that he had promised Longbottom to have tea earlier in the week. It was likely that. She’d be safely tucked into Hoggesmeade with the slow to anger but fiercely protective Neville and Hannah.

When Maria finally left the table, Severus decided to execute the first step of his plan. 

As Granger went to get up, he spoke.

“Miss Granger.”

She stopped halfway out of the chair, looking to him. “Yes, Professor Snape.” 

“I wondered if I could persuade you, if you feel you could handle the extra work, of assisting me with Dueling Club.” He offered calmly, and he watched as she sat down, looking at him puzzled.

“You run the dueling club?”

He nodded. “Yes, and I feel like a witch who knows her way around a duel would greatly benefit my students. You come with a different perspective.” It was not a lie, she had been in a different part of the war, and he’d seen and heard what anyone who tangoed with the business end of her wand ended up like.

She took a long moment, and he sat patiently waiting, drinking the last dregs of his coffee.

“I suppose I could assist you. What did you have in mind?” 

He knew she couldn’t give up on the chance to teach practical magic. It was something she’d been driving to before with her nitwit friends.

“Good. We meet on Fridays during the planning period in my classroom. You will assist me in monitoring the students. And teaching them techniques that could save their lives if they ever end up in such a position that they need to defend themselves.” He explained, giving her time to change her mind.

“Alright, then. I will see you there next Friday, then.”

“I shall see you there. Good day, Miss Granger.” Severus said, rising to leave. He’d successful started to get Granger back to the beast she was before. 

She did follow him for a time after the had already said goodbye, and it was a bit irritating. However, it was the one direction that went out of the Great Hall. Before he said something, she seemed to turn, taking a set of stairs up and supposed to the library.

* * *

Diagon Alley was crowded. Many witches and wizards were doing their yule shopping on this brisk Saturday morning. Severus did his best to get through the crowds as quickly as possible.

He had a meeting that he had no desire to be late to.

Severus moved through the streets to the much less crowded Knockturn Alley. 

It was decidedly cleaner now, but no less frowned upon as it had been in darker times. No one bothered him as he walked through the streets, past the tattoo artist, and into the White Wyvern pub. Upon entering, he could see his party waiting for him.

He removed his coat, tucking it over his arm as he walked up to the lithe blonde.

“Severus.”

“Lucius. Have we all arrived?” Severus asked, eyeing the three other men at the table. The men in dress robes seemed nervous and out of place in the seedy pub, an added benefit to the effect that he desired.

“We have. Gentleman, place, follow me to the private room.” Lucius said, turning and walking around the bar up a rickety set of stairs. Severus followed last behind the men, closing the door behind them once they were in the room. 

It was a dusty room with a large round table in the center. It was generally used for the Wyvern’s betting room. Still, Severus paid the bartender enough to make up for any lost winnings of the day. He did not take a seat as the other four men present did.

Lucius sat with a smile and began gesturing with introductions.

“Mr. Barnabas Cuffe, Editor in Cheif of the Daily Prophet, Mr. Francis Macmillian, Publisher, and Finance Officer for the Daily Prophet, Mr. Kendrick Greengrass, legal representation for myself and Mr. Snape. I know you do not need an introduction for Mr. Snape or myself.” Lucius intoned, taking a seat next to the man who had been identified as his lawyer.

“Um, no, we do not. What can we help you gentleman with.” Mr. Macmillian asked, looking concerned between them both. 

Severus had to admit he was impressed. When Draco said his father would be able to arrange this meeting first thing in the morning, he did not expect that he’d have a lawyer. He supposed it made sense to Severus; after all, the man likely had one on personal retainer.

Severus stood behind his chair. His hands were on the back of the wood, as he watched the two men opposed them.

“I do believe that I have the grounds for legal action against your paper. Your reporter has slandered my name on more than one account. The article yesterday, however, painted me as some predator, preying on a young woman who was once my student. I believe that Mr. Greengrass can explain exactly which laws Ms. Skeeter broke.” 

Mr. Greengrass nodded. “Your paper is in violation of several of the laws put out in the statue of war hero protection. Your reporter identified Mr. Snape as an ex-death eater, and that is prohibited in section 57, line 9, concerning Mr. Snape, personally being absolved of his actions with that organization. The only addendum for publication with his name and that phrase ‘ex death eater’ to be allowed was if Mr. Snape gave explicit permission, or decided to write a book on his own. Since you did not have explicit consent from Mr. Snape, you can be brought up before the Ministry on defamation level 2. And that is only your first offense. If Mr. Snape decides to take the Prophet to court, you will be sued for 42 offenses by a class-action group that Mr. Malfoy represents. You may see the itemized list and occurrences here.” The man said, summoning a roll of parchment and passing it to Mr. Cuffe and Mr. Macmillian, who looked a bit pale.

Severus was impressed. _How on earth did Lucius get 42 other offenses in such a short time?_ Unless this was something he had already in the works and Severus had just offered him a perfect chance to execute it. Severus didn’t mind; he rather enjoyed watching the two business wizards struggle with what they were being presented.

“You’ve let Ms. Skeeter run her articles with little executive management. Her gossip-mongering can spell the end of your publication, or at least, your places in it. The Malfoy family would happily take over the expensive process of revitalizing the paper after any legal proceedings.” Lucius offered lightly, as if he were discussing something trivial, and not destroying Daily Prophet and taking her over.

“Um, Gentleman, surely there is something that can be done to prevent this from going into the courts.” Mr. Macmillian said nervously, glancing over the long piece of parchment.

“Of course there is my good man. That is why you are here.” Lucius spoke, leaning forward, his arms crossed on the dirty table.

“So, what do you two gentleman want to make this disappear.” Mr. Cuffe asked, still reading over the offenses.

“Rita Skeeter’s disgracefully removal from her position,” Severus said, leveling a stern look between the two of them.

Severus watched as they shared a look between them, then both looking down at the list in front of them. It had to be four feet long, Severus could see excerpts from the Prophet written over the whole thing. He would need to take Lucius out for drinks for this.

“This is a delicate situation we find ourselves in.” Mr. Cuffe answered, looking at them.

“Mr. Cuffe, my clients are very generous in what they are requesting of you. As you can see on line 478 of the list in front of you, you owe them an extensive amount in damages, and they are not asking for a knut of it. Surely, Ms. Skeeter is not worth your entire paper.” Mr. Greengrass gestured, his question left hanging.

“I can see that yes, and no, she is not. But she is a large part of the draw to our publication; we have no planned replacement for her.” Mr. Macmillain explained, his eyes falling on the line and his pupils turning into dinner plates.

Lucius quickly dismissed that notion. “I can be of some assistance with that. There are several young journalists with talent who are itching for the chance to write for the Prophet. I can have my contacts forward you their contact information and writing samples.” 

The men deliberated back and forth for minutes, with Severus adding input as he needed. It did not take the two men from the Prophet long to come to a decision. Lucius’s lawyer brought out a pre-trial agreement, which Severus and Lucius signed after Mr. Cuffe and Mr. Macmillian.

“It is settled. You will never hear of these offenses again, as long as you keep to your end of the bargain. Otherwise, this document is null and void.” Mr. Greengrass said, signing the form as the legal witness.

Severus was all too glad when the other men skirted off, hasty to get out of the Wyvern and their company. Mr. Greengrass shook his hand before leaving, and Severus was grateful for his help.

“Lucius, would you like to have a drink before I attend to other matters,” Severus asked, summoning a glass and a bottle of what looked like whiskey to him.

Lucius shook his head. “Narcissa would have a fit. No, I want to know why my son fire called me last night about this saying it was urgent. You’ve had bad press before Severus, what is this really about?”

Severus took a shot and grimaced, sending both back to the bar. “Granger.”

“So it’s true, you’ve been the other man and haven’t told me?” Lucius asked, looking splendidly out of place in his dress robes in this ill-kept room.

“You and your son are crude and daft. There is not and will not be anything going on between Granger and me. No, this is something akin to paying a debt. Someone is systematically destroying her life. I’m stemming the blood flow.” Severus offered, moving to the door.

“My son said debts that the Weasley boy has incurred were to be bought by him as soon as possible. Is there more to this narrative, or is my son overzealous in a chance to strike when the man is down.” Malfoy asked, standing up and spelling away the dirt from himself.

Severus gave a touch of a smile. “You know how Draco can be. He’s leaping at the chance to pay back one of his favors. I appreciate what you did here, Lucius.”

Lucius returned his smile, nodding. “Severus, I’ve been waiting for the moment to pounce on Skeeter for years. You just provided the right kind of outrage. And of course, the fact that Potter and Granger pushed for your own special addendum to that law helped my case have weight.”

“I see. Well, I must be off. I have got a lot to attend to before I even get to grading.”

“All work and no play makes for a dull time, my good friend.” Lucius offered, shaking his hand.

“So I have heard. Good day.” He turned to leave.

“Oh, Severus,” Lucius called before he exited the door. “Draco said to give this to you, for Granger. And if you tell her about this, let her know that the Malfoy family does not forget those who help us, regardless of blood status. Narcissa and I still very much owe her and Potter our freedom and livelihood.”

Severus took the envelope from Lucius and nodded. “I will pass it along. Thank you, Lucius.”

* * *

The flat that Severus entered was surprisingly clean. Severus had forgotten to take into account that Angelina Johnson, George’s fiancee, lived here with them as well. It was likely that she kept the house in order, as he could not see George Weasley as the type to maintain a vase of flowers on the counter.

Severus paid no mind to the rest of the house, only seeking out Mr. R Weasley’s room.

It was easy to spot. While the rest of the house was well kept, this room was a disaster. The smell alone offended Severus. It was like an unwashed teenager mixed with alcohol that had gone ripe. The desk, which he assumed used to be where George Weasley had a home office, had a line of spirit bottles.

It had only been five days since Hermione had left him, how had he made this room such a mess in that time. 

It was only through Draco that he had learned that Weasley had vacated the home that he and Granger had shared the day that she left. Draco had only known because the address change on file when Ron had to be carted home drunk. Severus wasn’t sure what he would find, but this sort of mess was not it.

Severus used his wand to sort through the debris.

There were several crumpled pieces of parchment, but upon opening them, they were blank. It was peculiar. He moved them aside.

Severus found what he was looking for on the bed. A filthy comb that the idiot left lying around. There were more than enough strands of hair for what he had devised. He tucked them into a vial and capped it. 

He moved to set the trash back as it was when the clock on the bedside table caught his attention.

It was not running as a timepiece; instead, there were what looked like spoons.

Severus looked closer and saw that it had Granger’s face on it and Ronald’s. The places where time was meant to be instead had words.

‘At Work’ ‘At Home’ ‘The Burrow’ ‘The Pub.’

Granger’s spoon had just moved from ‘At Work’ to a position that said ‘At Harry’s.’ So tea was to be with Mr. Potter.

Perhaps he had misjudged the man.

Ronald’s name was on ‘At Work.’

Severus considered for a moment and then decided that he was going to take it. It would benefit him to know where Mr. Weasley was. Shrinking it and tucking it into his pocket, he left the room.

Lilacs and linen replaced the smell, and he appreciated the relief of assault.

“Find what you were looking for?” George asked him, coming out of his kitchen. Severus hadn’t checked to see if anyone else was home when he arrived, but he was not surprised when he saw the redheaded man. 

“I did. Please tell Ms. Johnson that her attention to cleanliness is appreciated after being in that room.”

“I have to ask a few questions, Professor,” George said, crossing his arms and leaning against his counter.

Severus rose his eyebrow. “I believe our agreement was this incursion was no questions asked.”

“I don’t have questions about what you wanted to find here. I want to know what is going on with Hermione.” George explained, watching him. “Mum has gone off her rocker, saying that Hermione has left Ron for you. I know that’s as true as Gringotts giving away gold on holidays. But something is going on with Hermione. Why did she leave him? What happened? Ron has been an absolute madman. I have asked Angelina not to be here when I am not because Ron’s temper is high. And now you are here. I know you don’t put yourself into something that you think is a waste of your time. I know you think my project is a waste of time. So what’s changed your mind?”

Severus had to admit to himself that he was impressed by the perceptiveness of the young man. George Weasley had been the clever one of the two when there were two. 

“Mr. Weasley, your brother, has inadvertently poked a hornet’s nest. I am not going to speculate about what is or has happened between him and his soon-to-be-ex-wife. It is not my place. But if I were you, Mr. Weasley, I would take a closer look at what you already know, and maybe your brother’s current behavior. If you are astute enough to think you know what I consider waste or not, you surely should be astute enough to draw your conclusions.”

George Weasley looked like he was thinking, and then he gave Severus a nod. “Aye, you might be right. Whatever you and the hornets have planned, please do your best not to strike more than the one that has disturbed the nest. And one more thing.”

“Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

“You were never here, so I won’t be telling Angelina anything. You should go before she gets home from Christmas shopping.”

Severus nodded and made for the door. “You’re discretion is appreciated. I have your notes, I plan on working on them over the break. If all goes according to plan, you will have a prototype by the new year. Good day.”

“Good day Professor, and good luck.”

* * *

Severus was finishing up his last errand, which was school-related when he heard a chime from his pocket. Confused, he pulled out the clock he’d forgotten he’d taken. 

Mr. Weasley’s hand had moved. It now said, ‘At Harry’s.’ 

Severus finished his business as quickly a possible and nearly ran for the nearest apparition point.

He landed at a garden gate that opened into a beautiful home. Severus did not move to enter the gate. Instead, he started looking around outside it.

“Oi, what are you doing here, Snape.”

He turned around to see Mr. Weasley stepping out from behind a tree, advancing on him.

“I could ask you the same, Mr. Weasley.”

“This is my best mate’s and sister’s house. And my wife happens to be in there.”

“Your ex-wife,” Severus said, drawing his wand and holding his ground in front of the gate.

“I thought it was a poor joke, but it does seem that you’ve swooped in to sweep up my confused wife,” Ron said, and Severus could see him gritting his teeth.

“Mr. Weasley, if I had wanted your wife, she would have never been your wife in the first place.” Severus snarled, ready for whatever the man decided he would do. Regardless, he was not getting into that house while Hermione was there.

“Is that so? Do you think she’d choose you over me? You really are a pathetic fuck.” Ronald said, his wand drawn now.

Severus tightened his face, containing the anger that had come into a full blaze at seeing the man. “I would leave while you still can.”

“Or what, you gonna hex me again? This isn’t Hogwarts; you don’t have anything protecting you here.”

Severus gave a predatory smile. “Nor do you, Mr. Weasley. One.”

“I’m not scared of your counting,” Ron said, readying his wand.

“Two.” Severus counted, in part, to control himself and give the boy a chance to leave before he hexed him into oblivion.

  
“Wait! What are you doing? Stop!” 

He heard Harry coming up from behind him, and Severus turned his head for a moment. “Isn’t it obvious Potter?” 

It was at that moment that Weasley had decided to strike. “ _ **Confirngo**._”

The blasting curse hit him squarely in the chest, and the gate at his back was the only thing that stopped him from flying off his feet. His wool frockcoat burned, and he felt the sear of heat across his skin. Severus coughed with the force of the spell and prepared to cast back. If the boy wanted to duel unfairly, Severus would oblige him.

Severus heard Hermione scream angrily from behind him. “ _ **DEPLUSO! PROTEGO MAXIMA!**_ ” 

Weasley flew backward as a white sphere of protective magic surrounded Severus. 

Severus turned to look at the woman standing next to Harry, her brown eyes dark and angry. Her face was unmistakable angry, and it was the first time he’d seen the spark of the woman who had won a war. 

“Hermione, go back inside,” Harry said, and Severus turned his attention back to Weasley, whose face was as red as his hair. 

He was glaring at the woman behind him. It was a look that spoke volumes about what the man was capable of. Severus was not going to allow him to get his hands on her.

“Miss Granger, please do as Mr.Potter asks,” Severus said, standing upright and pointing his wand at Weasley. 

He could hear footsteps in the snow behind him, but he did not take his eyes off the man as he approached him, the white shield dissipating. 

He grabbed Weasley by the collar, pulling him up to his eye level.

“Snape, wait!” Harry Potter said, coming up behind him. “Don’t do anything that I’ll have to arrest you for as well.”

“Potter, I will not allow Mr. Weasley to think that his cheap shots are acceptable.” Severus snarled, shaking Weasley, whose wand was now in the snow and out of his reach.

“Severus, please. Unhand him. Go inside. I will handle this.”

Severus turned and looked at the young man, seeing that his eyes were as dark and as angry as he imagined his own were.

He lowered the idiot, taking a step back.

“Thanks, Harry, knew I could count on you to be a mate,” Ron said, fixing his clothes and glaring at Severus.

Severus was breathing heavily with rage, not taking more than a step back.

Potter turned and squarely punched the redhead in the mouth.

“I told you if you touched her again, if I heard a word of it, what would happen. Ronald Bilius Weasley, you are under arrest for illegal dueling and assault. Mr. Snape, will you be pressing charges?” Harry asked, grabbing his wand and binding the redhead.

Ronald Weasley was sputtering in rage as his hands were locked straight to his sides and his legs bound. “Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You can’t arrest me. What that fuck?”

Severus was pleasantly surprised at these turn of events and took a moment before answering. “Ah, yes, Auror Potter, I will.”

“Very well. I will be back shortly, please go inside, make yourself at home and let Ginny check you over. I’m sure you had a reason for your visit.” Harry said, and Harry sidelong apparated Mr. Weasley away.

Severus took a moment, putting his hand on his chest and feeling through his undershirt that he had been severely burned. It stung, and he exhaled in frustration. This was not how Severus planned this visit to go.

He walked into the garden gate and moved to the door, knocking before opening it.

He met the business end of Mrs. Potter’s wand. He put his hands up in surrender.

“Mr. Potter asked me to come in and wait for him. He’s currently arresting Mr. Weasley. I mean no harm to you or your brood.” He offered, and the wand was lowered. 

“Professor Snape, are you alright. Merlin, what did he hit you with?” She said, opening the door and taking in her appearance. 

“A blasting hex. Are you and Miss Granger, alright?” He said, stepping in when she allowed him.

“Yes, she is with the kids, Hermione, come on out, Professor Snape said that Harry’d taken Ron off,” Ginny said, moving farther into the home. 

Severus stood where he was in the kitchen, hearing the footfalls coming his way. 

“Circe, Severus, are you alright?” She asked, coming forward, and he held his hand up. Her face was concerned, but her eyes were still bright. Severus knew now that if she had something she thought Hermione needed to defend that wasn’t herself, she was still the dangerous witch he knew she could be.

“I am quite alright, Miss Granger. I had come to pay a visit to Mr. Potter about a Ministry matter. I apologize for interrupting your dinner with them.”

“You are injured.” She said, pointing to his chest, drawing her wand.

“Yes, do you know if Mrs. Potter has some burn salve on hand. I can easily obtain some when we return to the castle, but I’d like to tend to this before I repair the coat over it.”

“In the pantry, third shelf from the top, next to Lily’s old teething salve and my mother’s roasting pan.” He heard Ginny Weasley shout from the living room. He could listen to her in there with her children.

“Thanks, Gin!” He watched as Hermione smiled and moved to fetch the item. She returned, holding it in her hand. 

“Do you require help? Or would you rather I give you a moment?” 

It is evident that now she was uncomfortable. Severus took the salve from her hand and nodded in thanks.

“Might you direct me to a lavatory?”

“Through the hall, to the left, first door.” Ginevra Weasley called again.

“My gratitude, Mrs. Potter.” He called, and he stepped around Granger, who was worrying her lip looking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Professor.”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Granger, do not apologize for actions that are not yours.”

“But-”

“Did you hex me, Miss Granger?” He leveled her with a stern glare.

“No, but-”

“No buts, you did not hex me, so do not apologize. I shall be back shortly.” Severus said, settling the discussion and finding his way to the lavatory. 

Severus removed his shirts, assessing the burn in the mirror. It was not nearly as bad as he imagined. Fortunately, years around idiotic students and being set on fire once had motivated him to invest in flame-resistant clothing.

That did not mean that it did not hurt. Severus carefully applied the salve, noting it smelt like lavender when it shouldn’t, but he assumed it was for children, and the added scent would not affect potency. A glance over the label showed that it was indeed for children. But the apothecary it was from was one that he trusted to at least put out a decent salve.

After tending to the duel wound, he fixed his clothing and straightened out his coat. 

_There, that was better._ Severus had no desire to wander about the Potter house in such a state. Making sure that nothing was displaced from the room, he returned to the kitchen, finding it empty.

“We are in here.” He heard Mrs. Potter call, and he wondered if she ears all over this house. It must be both her Quidditch instincts and motherhood, he surmised. He placed the salve back into the pantry, following the directions that he’d heard before.

Entering the room, he found both women with a child in their laps. Hermione held the child he knew had to be James, and Harry Potter’s wife was holding their young daughter, who had to be Lily.

“Mummy, he’s scary,” Lily said, and Hermione chuckled.

“Lily Luna, that is not how we talk to guests. Say hello to Professor Snape; he works with Aunt Mione.”

Severus gave a disinterested look at the two children greeted him. He gave a curt nod and stood by the doorway, waiting for Mr. Potter to return. Granger and Mrs. Potter seemed willing to let him remain in his silence, and he observed them and the room around him patiently.

“Hermione, would you help me feed them. Who knows how long Harry will take at the Ministry, and I cannot have them off schedule, if you think 1st years are hard, try two angry toddlers that haven’t had enough sleep. Professor Snape, would you like something to drink?” Ginny said, standing with a child on her hip. Hermione nodded, holding the other child, and walking with him to the kitchen.

“No thank you, I don’t wish to be inconvenient.” He said, feeling very out of place. However, Hermione seemed to be in a good mood and at ease. Severus realized it was pleasant to see her comfortable and not so fragmented.

“It’s no trouble; I’m making myself and Hermione some tea. You can join us. There is a seat at the island that you have your distance at.”

Severus relented. “I cannot be so rude as to deny your hospitality.”

He followed and took the seat, watching as Hermione she helped two children to eat. Severus was amused at her antics to convince the young girl to eat her vegetables, though he kept his face impassive. It wouldn’t do to get too comfortable. 

“Here you go, Professor.” Mrs. Potter said, before taking her seat and encouraging her son to eat. It was a white teacup with little blue flowers on it, but he supposed that it was the cup available to him since the other dishware matched it.

“Can I ask you, something Professor.”

He took a drink of the hot tea and rose an eyebrow. “I believe you just did, Mrs. Potter.”

“Hilarious. What sort of business do you have with Harry? Especially on a Saturday night?” The brown-eyed woman asked, curiously. 

Severus had not planned on having to explain himself to the young redhead. He didn’t want Hermione to know what he knew or make Mrs. Potter have to hear unsavory details about her brother. Severus did what came as naturally as breathing to him. He lied. “I wanted to speak with him about the Prophet and inform him of developments. I do apologize for invading your home on your weekend.” 

“It is not an invasion at all. Harry has spoken about inviting you over before, but he always seemed to think you’d decline.” 

“I do not often entertain social events, Mrs. Potter. I would ruin my reputation.” He quipped, and she seemed amused.

“Ah, yes, I suppose it would.”

The door whipped open.

“Gin, Mione, is he still here- Oh good, hello Severus,” Harry said, rushing into the house. Severus nodded his head, lifting his teacup to his lips. Potter moved around him to visually check on his children and then both the women sitting at the table.

“Harry, what happened?” Mrs. Potter asked, and he shook his head, pressing a kiss to her brow.

“I will talk to you about it in a moment, go ahead, get the kids fed and to bed, and I’ll talk with Professor Snape. Would you like to join me in my office?” Potter said, looking at Severus.

“That would be preferable.” Severus did not think about how Harry had asked him into his office, rather than the past when it was the other way around. Instead, he rose and followed the dark-haired man.

Once the door was closed, Harry took a seat, gesturing to a chair across from his desk. It was piled with paperwork, and it seemed that Harry Potter’s work style had not changed since his schooling days.

“I have a million questions, but the first and most prominent is what can I help you with, sir?” Potter asked, and Severus took a seat, still holding his teacup.

He was prepared for this, but he’d gotten much of his answer from the interaction between them. “I came with multiple purposes. The first was to determine what you did know about what was going on with Miss Granger. However, based on your reaction, you seem to be aware.”

“What do you know, Severus, that I might not?” Harry asked, leaning back in his chair, obviously thinking. It was like looking at James Potter, but one that had matured and was wiser. Severus had to push the thought away.

“That I am not sure, as I am not aware of what you know. But you know that Mr. Weasley has placed his hands on her in a fashion to cause harm, and you are displeased with it. That is satisfactory to my inquiry.”

Harry snorted and rubbed his forehead, pushing his hair back. “I am hardly surprised that your first idea would that I knew and was doing nothing about it.”

Severus inclined his head. “And you proved to me that I was wrong in that assumption. I have two more matters of business.”

“Oh, and what are they?”

“I have it on good authority that Rita Skeeter’s days are number at the Prophet. I wanted to know what options I would have as a private citizen to gain recompense from her as an individual for her slander and libel?” Severus asked, steepling his fingers.

Harry looked interested now, and Severus kept his face calm. “I won’t ask how you know, but if you are responsible, then I owe you a drink. As for your options, you could always go through the media department. Though they are likely to tangle you up in red tape for several years and she could likely weasel out of it. If you could prove that her words caused you to lose income or opportunities for income, you might try the civil courts. I’m not a lawyer, so I can’t exactly answer what all your options are, I’d advise you to seek legal counsel. I can’t arrest her for what she writes, trust me, I would have done it already. Malicious gossip is not illegal, as damaging as it can be.”

Severus listened as he spoke, making a note of it. “I appreciate your advice, Mr. Potter.”

“And the last bit of business?” Harry asked, curiosity ripe in those green eyes.

Severus leaned forward, casting a Muffliato over the both of them. Harry seemed surprised but was still paying attention.

“I am aware of a portion of what Miss Granger has gone through, though I am not officially in the know. A few associates and I are, shall we say, moving to ensure that this can never happen again, to her or another woman by Mr. Weasley. Nothing illegal, I assure you, so your job is not in jeopardy.” Severus offered, seeing how the young man had shifted in his seat. 

Severus wanted to let Potter know that he needed nothing from him but information. “However, that is only a part of the issue at hand. Miss Granger is deeply affected, in the week she has been at Hogwarts, she has had at least four different mental breakdowns. Minerva and I have discussed it. I am willing to help her regain herself, without her knowing my involvement; of course, I have a reputation to uphold. This means I need to get to know things about Miss Granger that were previously superfluous, and thus I do not know them. I am asking you to perhaps, inform me of her likes and dislikes, hobbies, things I can encourage or facilitate to assist in her recovery. It is important to the students of Hogwarts that she be in her best form for teaching. In this state, she is helping no one.”

The expression on Potter’s face was hard to read. He looked for a few moments as if he’d been given something unpleasant to eat. Still, then his expression shifted to one that belied amusement.

“I can assist you with that, Professor Snape, I’ll send a letter after I speak with my wife. You should know, Hermione gave me a wand oath, that if Ron hurts her again, she has to tell me as soon as possible. If I discover something like that, I can also easily pass that along. It is also important to me that she is safe. I feel much better knowing she is at Hogwarts with you and Minnie.”

“I am sure the Headmistress is delighted at your nickname,” Severus said sarcastically.

“It is what my children call her.” Harry offered, standing. “Is that everything?”

“For now, but I may need your assistance in the future.”

“If it means helping Hermione, you need just to ask.”

“Miss Granger is fortunate to have such stalwart friends as you and Mrs. Potter. I do wonder, however, how this went so unnoticed?”

He watched as pain creased across the man’s face. Potter sat back down, his hands clasping in front of him. “She was hiding it from me. Years ago, when Hermione first told me about it, we thought it was a fluke, that he’d had an episode of grief and hadn’t known how to cope. She left him, and then when he seemed to get sober, she returned. From then on out, she decided not to tell us. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it; she was always so happy when she was here. Always another excuse for an injury. She worked with magical creatures, which could be unpredictable. Or she was clumsy. I didn’t think any more about it. Then James was born and then Lily, and work. I failed to see what was going on. When she got distant, I thought it was work. It wasn’t until Ginny said something that made me think we’d missed something.”

“It is always disconcerting to be reminded that you aren’t all-knowing, isn’t it, Mr. Potter,” Severus added, understanding the man’s discomfort. 

“You could say that. It also reminds me that my work isn’t done.”

“Did you know about the child she lost?” Severus asked, and Harry’s brow rose to his hairline. Severus knew then that Harry did not. The man’s fist tightened, and there was a storm behind emerald eyes.

He looked furious. “I did not. Can you divulge to me what you know, Professor Snape, before I get myself arrested.”

Severus held his hands up, giving a small shrug. “All I know, directly from her during a breakdown, was that she was with child, and then she was not. No details. I did not see fit to push the issue as she had nearly passed out in my arms from hyperventilating.”

“I see. Thank you.”

“For, Mr. Potter?” Severus questioned, getting to his feet now.

Potter shrugged and smiled. “Saving my best friend’s life again.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort Mr. Potter. I am simply giving Granger the tools to rebuild her life.”

“Like she did for you?” Harry’s eyes lit up, and Severus winced at the sentiment. It was true, but he did not like to think about it that way.

“Like she did for me. I will take my leave now.” He moved for the door, canceling the spell.

“Stay for dinner, Ginny and Hermione wouldn’t object.” Harry offered, getting up from behind his desk.

Severus held up his hand in rejection. “Mr. Potter, I have papers to grade and students to monitor. Your offer is gracious, but I cannot.”

“Understood. Have a good night, sir.”

“Good night, Potter.”

* * *

When Severus got back to the castle, he informed Slughorn he would be using the teacher’s brewing lab for the break. Slughorn was, of course, curious, but Severus did not give into his prying.

After a brief meeting with Minerva, where he filled her in on the details of his plans, Severus retired to his rooms. His chest had a bright splash of red across it. Part of him was filled with anger for letting the boy catch him off guard, but part of him was relieved that Weasley had sealed his fate.


	10. Confessional Oddities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

There was no way she had just heard Ginny say what she had. However, upon a closer look, it made sense.

Fear crept up her spine, but her gut told her that she needed to get out there before Ron hurt him.

Hermione watched Harry fly out the door, and she followed, her wand drawn. She could hear Severus counting, and it reminded her of the night in the snow at Hogwarts. This time, however, both men were standing, wands were drawn at each other. The look on Ron's face made her want to run away.

  
"Wait! What are you doing? Stop!" Harry yelled from her side.

Hermione watched as Severus turned to answer him. Her face contorted as she realized that Ron was going to hex him. She rushed forward as the spell hit Severus in the chest, pushing him into the garden gate.

Something in her lit on fire at the sight. 

In an instant, her entire mind screamed at her fight, to stop him, as rage burned in her chest.

" _DEPLUSO! PROTEGO MAXIMA!_ " She screamed, weaving the spells so quickly that one had just left her wand when the other unleashed. 

There was a touch of satisfaction as her ex-husband flew backward. Hermione stood there ready to send another spell, feeling the outrage that Ron had dared to attack the man who had saved the three of them from certain death on more than one occasion. Her hands were shaking.

She was so mad, but her wand hand was steady, trained on the redhead on the ground. Ron was looking back at her, and she could see the threats spelled in his eyes, but at this moment, she was not afraid. 

Hermione was not going to stand by and let him hurt or kill someone else. Her eyes met Severus's briefly, seeing he was hurt.

She felt Harry put a hand on her wand arm as he stepped forward, giving her a cautionary gaze. "Hermione, go back inside." 

Hermione had no intention of doing as Harry asked until she heard Severus speak.

"Miss Granger, please do as Mr.Potter asks." He asked her, and there was a touch of something in his voice that compelled her to listen. Perhaps it was years of deferring to his authority.

Hermione turned and went into the house, closing the door behind her. Ginny was standing there, holding both her kids on her hips and her wand in her hand; it was not advantageous but was at least there.

"Hermione, take the kids, go into the playroom," Ginny said, passing two perplexed children off to her. Hermione took them into the room and shut the door.

"Auntie, what is going on?" Lily asked, and Hermione took in a deep breath sitting down with her.

"Daddy and Mummy need us to stay here and be quiet. Nothing is wrong, but there is someone out there that your daddy needs to talk to." Hermione offered, petting her hair.

The children seemed to accept this answer, but she knew that they had been taught to hide from a young age if they were told. It'd been a game, but it was made to save their lives if someone managed to get here with the idea of hurting the Potters.

Time seemed to drag on, and the longer she sat there with the children, the worse she thought. 

Then she heard Ginny call for her.

"Stay here, Mummy will come to get you," Hermione said, rushing out the door with urgency.

In the kitchen, Severus was standing there, a part of his frockcoat burned away to expose a scorched undershirt. He looked impassive, but she had to imagine he was in a lot of pain.

"Circe, Severus, are you alright?" Hermione asked, concern alighting her features. Her mind was still reeling from the fact that Ron had attacked him.

He dismissed her concern with a hand gesture. "I am quite alright, Miss Granger. I had come to pay a visit to Mr. Potter about a Ministry matter. I apologize for interrupting your dinner with them."

"You are injured." Drawing her wand, she had an intention to at least mend his clothing.

"Yes, do you know if Mrs. Potter has some burn salve on hand. I can easily obtain some when we return to the castle, but I'd like to tend to this before I repair the coat over it."

Hermione had turned to ask, but Gin's 'mom senses' had her yelling before she even could ask. "In the pantry, third shelf from the top, next to Lily's old teething salve and my mother's roasting pan." 

"Thanks, Gin!" It was easy for her to find the salve, and she walked back to Severus. 

It was then that she realized that he might need help. But surely he wouldn't want her to help him. She had to ask, none the less. "Do you require help? Or would you rather I give you a moment?" 

His hand brushed her hand as he took the salve, and she let it go. There was a ghost of the touch on her fingers, but she pushed it away.

"Might you direct me to a lavatory?"

His answer relieved her; she wasn't sure if she could handle both the proximity and him shirtless next to her. The idea made her start to get nervous as it was.

"Through the hall, to the left, first door." Gin answered again.

"My gratitude, Mrs. Potter." 

The guilt had begun to take her over. He'd come here on business, but because of her, he'd been injured.

Could she go nowhere without someone being in danger?

She bit her lip as she tried to control the wave of anguish that rose in her.

"I'm so sorry, Professor."

"Miss Granger, do not apologize for actions that are not yours," Severus replied, and she looked at him with shock.

"But-"

"Did you hex me, Miss Granger?" His glare made her shrink back from him.

"No, but-"

"No buts, you did not hex me, so do not apologize. I shall be back shortly." 

She watched him walk away, and Hermione stood there for a moment, letting the adrenaline start to fade. She was still reeling from it. 

Joining Ginny in the living room, she scooped up James, letting him play with his toy dragon in her lap.

How had Ron known she was here? Did he know, or had he just shown up by chance? Ginny had promised to make sure he didn't think she was here, and she trusted Ginny to do just that.

And she'd attacked him. Yes, he was attacking Severus, but what would he do when he saw her next, now that she'd unleashed her fury? He'd be furious. 

A shiver ran up her spine; the kind one got when someone was supposedly walking over their grave. Fear began to trickle in through the cracks of her resolve. 

Then, she was numb. Hermione sat there, looking at herself as she held James. She could hear everything being said, but it was like listening through a cloud. Her movements didn't feel like they were her own. Everything felt distant, but nothing hurt. The fear wasn't there. It was just her, watching herself play with James.

Hermione followed Ginny into the kitchen, setting James up in his chair and helping secure Lily in her seat. It was the familiar pattern of helping with the kids as she'd done at most family functions, that brought her back to herself. Lily was refusing to eat her roast, and so Hermione pretended it was a dragon. 

It made her laugh, and Hermione smiled at the sound, and at that, it had got Lily to eat.

Hermione only half-listened to the conversation between Severus and Ginny, instead focusing all her energy on Lily and James. She'd always been great with kids, and her nieces and nephews were among her highest points of pride. Her office at the Ministry had been covered in photos of them. Along with pictures they drew for her. 

She lost herself in the sensation of caring for James and Lily. An ache she always felt seemed to subside for a moment.

It startled her when the door flew open, but Harry coming in kept her from drawing her wand.

Hermione watched him look then over, his hands coming to each child's face looking over them. Hermione let him touch her shoulder in check, and he then felt his wife's.

"Harry, what happened?" Gin asked, and Hermione watched as Harry kissed her head before shaking his.

"I will talk to you about it in a moment, go ahead, get the kids fed and to bed, and I will talk with Professor Snape. Would you like to join me in my office?" 

Hermione watched as Harry eased from protective father into a stance that had formality and professionalism. It was a bit like watching him play dress up, but she always had that notion, even when he was in the office. She'd seen him at his worse and his most juvenile, so seeing him as anything else always amused her.

Severus's curt voice cut through the thought. "That would be preferable."

They both left, and Hermione shared a look with Ginny.

"That was possibly the most awkward encounter I've had in my kitchen to date." Ginny offered, smiling as she wiped James's face from the devastation he'd made of his potato.

"Oh?" Hermione said, realizing she could remember nothing of what had been said.

"Yes, it was. You alright, you seemed like you were off someplace else earlier." 

"I'm fine. Really." Hermione worried her lip, looking at Lily.

Ginny put her hand on hers, making Hermione look up at her. "Hermione, you are going to have to stop lying to us one of these days."

Shaking her head, Hermione lied. "I'm not lying."

"And I'm not an all-star chaser. Come on, let's get these two bathe and in bed."

Hermione helped Ginny, though the woman didn't need it. She felt like she was watching in a sport. Ginny had a process and plan and was ready for every whine and complaint and need. It was impressive, and Hermione told her as much several times. Once they were both in bed and read a story by both of them, they went downstairs.

Harry was sitting at the island, a cup of tea in front of him, and his hands on both sides of his head.

"Harry, what happened?" Ginny asked, coming to touch his shoulder.

"Hermione, we need to talk," Harry said, looking at her. 

She felt her stomach climb into her throat. Was this where Harry decided that she was too much trouble. Had she placed faith in him, would he turn from her, just as Ron has said he would.

"O- okay." She managed, taking a seat at the table, looking at him.

Harry looked like he had aged overnight, and she could see faint lines in his face. "Gin, please, sit down, you need to be here too."

Hermione looked at the redhead woman, and they both exchanged looks of confusion.

"They put Ron in the drunk tank. He'll be out in the morning." Harry offered, rubbing his forehead where his scar was. 

Fear piled on like the fact that he would be after her in the morning.

It was Ginny who was able to speak. "That's not all; you wouldn't look like this over that. What is wrong?"

Hermione felt Harry hold her gaze, looking at her with a pained expression. His mouth opened and closed, and the words seemingly lost on him as his eyes watered. She could see that he was upset, but not made, desperately sad.

"I need you to tell me everything that has happened with Ron. I need to know; I can't live with the not knowing. We never had secrets between us before. When it was just you and me in that forest, we relied on each other for existing. I need you to trust me, and I need to know. What did he do to you? What happened to you that you lost your baby?"

Hermione heard Ginny gasp quietly, and she felt her eyes on her. The tears came again, and Harry swooped off the chair, enveloping her in a hug.

"I know it has to be so hard. I know you are scared. I want to help you; I want to protect you. But I need to know what I am fighting against Hermione. Please, trust me as I have always trusted you."

Hermione sobbed. 

Her throat was tight, and she couldn't speak. All she could do was hold on to Harry as years of pain fell from her.

"Take as long as you need. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." She heard him whisper in her hair.

It took her an hour before she was able to speak. Her voice was nearly gone, and all she could do was look at the floor as she started. At least what she could see as the beginning. 

They migrated to the living room, her in the middle of the couch, and one on each side. They were holding her hands, and Hermione could not remember feeling this way. As she moved on with what she could remember and vocalize, it got a little easier. 

Until it wasn't.

She broke down again as she went over her summer escape. Ginny had held her this time, cradling her and shushing her. It wasn't until the early morning hours that she was able to finish. Hermione felt like she was empty, her chest was hollow. She'd said things she swore she'd never tell another human being, and there was a sense of vulnerability to it all. 

It made it all real. 

Hermione had to cope now with the fact that it was real. Her husband had abused her. It was real. And she wasn't sure if she was equipped to do so. 

She fell asleep on Harry's shoulder, his arm around her protectively, exhausted, and unable to keep her eyes open for even a moment.

* * *

Hermione woke up to the sound of giggling. She opened her eyes and was confused as to where she was. It took her only a moment to realize that she was in the guest room at Harry's. What gave it away was the two sets of eyes on the edge of the bed looking at her.

"Auntie, are you awake?" She heard James try to whisper, and Hermione nodded her head, rolling back and patting the bed for them to climb in.

The shouts of glee were loud, and she was still very raw from the emotional dumping from the night before, but she still accepted their hugs with open arms.

"Mummy said that when you get up, we can have Waffles!" Lily said with a grin, bouncing excitedly on the bed.

"Oh, did she. Is your mum making my favorite breakfast?" Hermione asked, patting the blonde's hair.

"Mmhmm. Come on come on, let's go!" Lily said, jumping on the bed. The three-year-old was very enthused about breakfast.

The door opened, and Ginny rolled her eyes. "I knew they were too quiet. I told you to let Aunt Mione sleep."

Hermione held up her hand, sitting up and yawning. "They didn't wake me up. They were just staring at me until I did."

"I'm making breakfast; you think you can eat?" Ginny asked, and Hermione nodded. She managed to get out of bed with one child on her side and the other on her leg.

Gin fixed her children with a look that meant business. "Alright, you two, go wash your hands and give your aunt time to wake up."

Breakfast at the Potter's was peaceful, and Hermione enjoyed it. She was glad that Ginny or Harry wanted to ask any more questions about what she'd said the night before. 

Ginny's copy of Witch Weekly was on the table, and Hermione looked at it, a heading on the cover catching her eye.

**Fallen from Grace: Secluded Delight's outs Ronald Weasley**

"Can I read that?" Hermione asked, and Ginny smiled, sliding it to her. Hermione opened it, skipping the trivial until she got to what she'd seen. There was a picture of Draco Malfoy sitting gracefully with his legs crossed next to Romilda Vane in what was an interview. 

**Ronald Weasley banned from an exclusive night club: Mr. Malfoy explains why.**

  
**Romilda Vane (RV): I want to thank you for this unexpected interview, Mr. Malfoy.**

**Draco Malfoy (DM): It is my pleasure, Ms. Vane.**

**RV: Please, go ahead and explain to my readers what you'd just expressed to me.**

**DM: With pleasure. As many of your readers know, I am the sole proprietor of Secluded Delight's. While many see it as a gentleman's club, I also have a large number of female clientele. As I have said before, in a previous interview, that I have an obligation to protect my patrons and my staff.**

**RV: Yes, that was the article I was writing on the Granger-Weasley Divorce.**

**DM: Precisely, I'd like to reiterate that the club and I have no hand in that.**

**RV: Of course.**

**DM: As I was saying. I have to protect my staff, and after your article came out, a few members of my team came forward with some alarming, to say the least, concerns. I will respect their privacy in not divulging details, but I tell you Ms. Vane, were I more a man of action, I'd be giving this interview from behind bars.**

**RV: Is that so? Was what you were told truly that shocking?**

**DM: It was. As a result of these concerns and an internal investigation in which we reviewed hours of willingly given Pensieve memories, financial records, and written statements, I am here to offer you a first.**

**RV: A first in Witch Weekly, I am honored. And before you go on, I'd like to commend you and your thorough investigation. It is relieving that you take the safety of your staff so seriously.**

**DM: I take it very seriously. As I was saying. Mr. Ronald Weasley has been a patron of Secluded Delights since the week after it opened. He was what we considered a regular patron and had several of my staff as requested attendants.**

**RV: Oh, is that so? You say you have female clientele as well, was Hermione Granger ever a patron, if you are at liberty to divulge.**

**DM: Hermione Granger has reportedly only entered my establishment once, which was her Bachelorette Party. She is not a patron.**

**RV: May I ask, why are you telling us now, and what does this mean for the future privacy of patrons.**

**DM: You may ask. I am releasing this information with a purpose, and my current patrons need not worry; their privacy is always of utmost importance to me. The purpose of this information release is to let the public know that as of today, which is Thursday the 23rd, which is three days before this will be published, correct?"**

**RV: Correct, Witch Weekly comes out every Sunday morning.**

**DM: Ah, yes. As of today, he is no longer a patron, and he is hereby barred from entering my establishments, both current and future.**

**RV: That is a pretty stiff punishment. What invoked this?**

**DM: This is a direct result of my internal investigation. Mr. Weasley physically and sexually assaulted at least four of my employees. We've already begun the proceedings for my staff to have their day in court, which I will be personally financing their lawyers. I would like this to be a warning to anyone who comes into my club.**

**RV: And that warning is?**

**DM: There are rules in my club. We have a zero-tolerance policy for abuse and nonconsensual interaction. If you decide to hurt my staff or break those rules, I have the power, per your contract you signed upon membership to publicly expose you for it. Mr. Weasley is the first that has been to this extent, and we are changing security protocols as a result of this investigation.**

**RV: Powerful words, Mr. Malfoy. I do hope that your clientele takes heed.**

**DM: As do I. Might I make another, separate statement?**

**RV: Of course, you may say what you please.**

**DM: As I said before, the divorce of Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Granger-Weasley has nothing to do with me or my business. However, I would ask that your readers evaluate, if he was willing to do this to my staff members, what would stop him from doing this to his wife?**

**RV: That is close to speculation, Mr. Malfoy, and you know how I feel about non-factual reporting.**

**DM: It is merely an observation, Ms. Vane, but I will respect your wishes.**

**RV: Always a gentleman. Thank you for this exclusive interview.**

**DM: It was my pleasure, and thank you for your hospitality.**

**RV: There you have it, readers, from Mr. Malfoy himself. Stay Witchy.**

"Oh my- have you read this?" Hermione said, baffled, angry, and confused.

Ginny looked up and shook her head. "No, not yet, something wrong?"

Hermione turned to the magazine, sliding it in front of her sister-in-law. She watched as her brown eyes scanned the page, and then the characteristic red of Weasley anger spread over his face.

"Holy- Harry! Come read this?"

Harry looked up from his waffle, which he'd been sleepily eating. "Hmm, did my team win? Please don't tell me the cannons beat them!"

"No, it's worse." She said, offering the magazine to him.

"Worse and in Witch Weekly, do I want to know."

"Just read it, Harry!"

Their words were lost on Hermione after that as she sat back in her chair, feeling heavy. She'd known he'd been a member of the club, it was on their financial statements, and he said he went there to drink with co-workers and socialize. Since many members of his department went there, she didn't overthink it. Except knowing he'd come home drunker than needed.

It wasn't his infidelity that hurt her; she'd expected that there was no way he was in a gentleman's club just for drinks. It was the fact that he'd hurt someone else. 

Four other people. Had he done this to them because of her? She'd only ever seen him get like that with her. Had her fighting back put someone in danger. Was this her fault?

And Malfoy had asked the Wizarding World to look closer at their divorce.

Would they see her failure as a wife? Her inability to save him, to keep him from doing this to her, to other people. Would she be able to face the world with them knowing that she'd failed at the only thing that was supposed to come easy?

She tucked her face in her hands, her chest tightening. The wave of panic washed over her. A hand was on her shoulder, but she didn't look up. Her lungs were fighting for air again. 

Hermione heard the words "panic attack" from Harry, but everything else was loud to listen to him. Her heart thundered in her ears. Her fingernails dug into her forehead as she tried to fight it, to get everything to stop spinning and screaming and hurting.

"Hermione, breathe. In. Hold. Out." She heard Harry say.

It was a catalyst and thought the bleakness of the screaming sounds, and she was taken back to Severus coaching her and forcing her to breathe evenly. 

Hermione didn't know how her mind had held so tightly to that memory, but she wasn't in a position to care. She could see his nose flaring as he exhaled slowly, the way his shoulders moved up as he inhaled. She focused on it with all the will she had not to succumb.

There was safety in those black eyes, a semblance of comfort. Severus's expression was open then, and as she calmed, Hermione could read concern. He'd held her firmly upright, not letting her sink to the stone. 

Hermione followed the pattern, in, pause, out. The blackness faded to grey and then disappeared back into the bright blue and white kitchen.

She was on the floor, her head in Harry's lap as he rubbed her back.

"Sorry." She coughed, and he pressed his hand into her back. 

"Shush. Just keep breathing. It will pass." He said, and his eyes had the same kind of concern in them.

They sat there in the kitchen like that for a little while before the hard floor began to make them both sore, and she was sure that her feet would hold her.

"I should go back to the castle," Hermione said, shaking her head. She had a massive headache. "Crookshanks has been alone all night."

Harry looked like he wanted to stop her, but he didn't, just hugging her tightly. "I'm here if you need me. Even if I am at the office, come there, someone will be able to find me. You aren't alone. I think you have grossly underestimated how many people care about you."

She chuckled. "You and Ginny don't make an army."

"No, but me, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Minerva, and Severus do."

"Don't count on Severus caring beyond how my troubles affect him."

"Hermione," Harry said as she turned to grab the floo powder. "Don't be so hard on the man."

"I'm won't. Goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Hermione, I'll tell the kids you send your love when they get back from shopping. Promise you'll come for Christmas."

"I will. Hogwarts, My Quarters." She said, throwing the powder down and being sent into her room.

Crookshanks was sitting in her chair, a bowl of water, and one of fish on the side table. It looked like Queenie had been thoughtful enough to feed him. She'd have to thank the elf.

"Hello, Handsome." She cooed and then was startled as someone stood up from the other chair, which had it's back to her.

"I do not think that is an appropriate address, Miss. Granger." Severus Snape said as he looked at her. She'd completely missed that he'd been in the chair looking at her cat.

"How, how did you get in here?" She asked, panicking that her wards and alarms had failed her. 

"The Headmistress asked me to come and check on you. As Deputy Headmaster, she and I have the ability to request access to staff rooms. Your wards wouldn't allow me entry without her. Please forgive the intrusion. After telling her what had transpired, Minerva felt prudent I wait for you to return." He explained to her, and Hermione felt relief.

She'd given the wards permission for Minerva, and if she let him in, they would have allowed it. 

"However, your wards have not allowed me to leave." He said with a bit of irritation. "So, I have been here with your kneazle, in your empty quarters."

Hermione looked apologetic, dropping the wards with a flick of her wand. "I am so sorry; I hadn't expected someone would be in here without me to let them come or go."

"Granger, please stop your incessant apologizing. I am here to inquire after your wellbeing. What would you like me to tell the Headmistress?"

Hermione thought for a moment. She didn't exactly feel good, with the pounding headache, the achy body, and the weariness of the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on, but she didn't want to worry the woman.

"Tell her I'm fine. Harry and Ginny took care of me." She offered to the man, moving to lead him to the door.

"I see. Miss Granger, indulge me. Why have you not unpacked?" 

She looked at him. He looked around at the empty bookshelves, and the room that looked like no one lived there except for Crookshanks.

"I suppose I haven't had the time. It's a lot to do."

"Would you like some assistance, surely you must be going mad without your books. I know I would be." He offered, and his tone was almost what she would consider friendly. 

This was a trap.

Even if it wasn't, Hermione wasn't unpacking until she was confident that she wouldn't have to flee from here quickly. Ron was already out of the drunk tank, and likely on a rampage, or a bender.

"No, I can do it. I'll do it after I've had a rest."

"The Potter children wear you out?" He asked with curiosity, moving toward the door now. 

Hermione followed him, about to answer when he looked at her with scrutiny and held her hand up. 

"Granger, stop. You've-" He reached into her hair and yanked, pulling a few strands out as he removed what looked to be a piece of waffle with syrup in her hair. "-food it seems, in your hair."

He dismissed the food with a wave of his hand and looked somewhat off-put. Hermione was surprised at the action, but she did not pull away. He didn't look like he was going to hurt her.

"Ah, yes, toddlers. Thank you. I should shower. Please, tell the Headmistress I am okay, and I am sorry about you being locked in my rooms."

"Indeed. See you at dinner, Miss Granger." Severus said, leaving the room with haste.

That was strange. Hermione thought as she reset her wards.

"Was he at least nice to you?" She asked Crookshanks, who demanded her attention.

——

For the next week, it seems like strange things were happening when it came to Severus Snape. He appeared to be in the right place at the right time all week. 

On Monday, when she'd stumbled up the steps carrying a pile of essays, he'd been there, catching her elbow and giving her a withering reply about watching her step. He'd then offered to loan her a book he'd read that he thought might pique her interest. It was on the correlation of the Goblin wars and House-elf enslavement. It was one she'd not read yet. Hermione accepted, and he handed it to her from under his arm. It was as if he'd been carrying it around. It smelt like it was new to her, and she'd devoured it overnight.

On Tuesday, he'd given her a box of espresso flavored bonbons that he'd only eaten one out of, saying that Severus thought he would like them and did not, so wanted to give her the option to try them before he threw them out. Of course, Hermione had jumped at the chance, they were her favorite, but she knew he didn't know that.

On Wednesday, he'd asked her for her opinion. It was on the matter of using the 'mutatio skullus' hex on head injuries to repair skull damage and if it had any advantages over using skellgro. It was a fascinating topic, and Hermione was surprised at herself for enjoying the conversation back and forth with him. It was a theory that hadn't been tried but had practical implications. She wondered if St. Mungo's research team had thought of it yet.

On Thursday, Severus had asked her to assist him on a project over the holiday, as he was privately brewing something as a favor for an associate and thought that she could bring some perspective to the project. Hermione, at this point, was suspicious, but she knew that he would only ask her if he needed her assistance. It was likely something that required four hands instead of two. She agreed after he explained that it was not dangerous, just tedious. It was almost like he wanted to company, but that couldn't be true.

Then Friday came around. She'd almost forgotten about Dueling Club. But Hermione received a note from a student from him, reminding her and asking that she come in her dueling robes. Hermione could not remember the last time she'd been in her dueling robes. She was sure that they didn't fit right, but the students would overlook that.

She managed to find them among the other things in her beaded bag and pulled her hair up tight to keep it out of the way. She had no idea what to expect, and she had no desire to get her hair stuck in anything.

What she found when she entered the room was something that almost reminded her of Dumbledore's Army. There were students of every house there, paired up and practicing combative spells. She could see points being moved along a board, counting wins and losses. She caught herself smiling as she saw it, a warm feeling creeping into her chest. It was nostalgia.

"Ah, there you are, Granger," Severus said, and he was in dark basil green dueling robes. Hermione nodded, looking at him in awe.

"This is amazing. I'm so glad you did this for the students." She said, unable to contain her impressed mood.

He nodded and ushered her to follow him. "I had some inspiration from a fellow student of yours, Mr. Longbottom and his wife, previously Ms. Abbott. We'd discussed it as a needed replacement for your underground club." He offered, giving her a raised eyebrow.

Hermione was surprised on many fronts. Snape had listened to Neville and had created a replacement for the DA that had an actual teacher who knew what they were doing teaching it. 

"I'd like to give them a demonstration of the spell you used this weekend. Many of them may have to defend someone else in their life, which could prove useful." Severus asked her, waiting on her answer.

She thought for a moment on which spell he was speaking of, and then she nodded. "Ah, yes, I'll follow your lead." 

"Very well." He turned quickly and moved to clear a duel on what seemed to be the central dueling platform.

"Attention. You will all end your duels now and come to the middle platform." He said, not even needing to yell. His voice had that kind of power, and Hermione was impressed as the students, there seemed to at least a hundred of them, did as he asked.

"Professor Granger, if you would join me." 

She nodded and climbed up the platform, taking her place on the other side of it. She had flashbacks of the first dueling club and how Lockhart had tried to fool Severus and failed.

She hoped that she'd not be the one on her arse today.

"Professor Granger, as you know, is an established duelist. While never competing, she did fight in the war, and I feel that grants her more esteem than any trophy. She will be assisting me as we show you how to protect someone aside from yourself." Severus said, and she watched as he began to explain what they would do.

He called up a student, one to stand in front of Hermione. 

His teaching was through as he explained that most spells were personal spells and would not help if you were trying to defend someone who was not in your immediate reach. There was an entire branch of periods that were designed for protecting others and groups, and while they were mostly known by members of the DMLE, nothing was stopping him from teaching them.

"Professor Granger. I am going to cast a hex at the student in front of me. You will demonstrate how to cast a protection spell on another person. Please use all the words this time, as many of our students cannot cast intent-based magic." Severus said, taking his dueling stance.

Hermione took in a deep breath, settling her mind. The 2nd year in front of her was trembling. Hermione imagined the girl did not like to be looking down the line at her Professor. He was a force to be reckoned with, she admitted.

She joined him in the count, wondering what he would cast.

" _FLIPENDO!_ " He cast, sending the spell at the student. 

" _ALLI PROTEGO MAXIMA!_ " Hermione cast, and the young girl was surrounded by a white bubble of protection. 

There was a collective gasp from the students, and the young student seemed to exhale in relief.

"As you can see, modifiers to existing spells can change how they work," Severus said, straightening up. "Now, that was simple hex, easy to deflect. Ten points to our volunteer."

Severus walked over to Hermione's side of the board and pointed to two of the seventh years to join them on the other side of the board. Goldstein and Smith, she recalled from her advanced Muggle Studies Class.

"Goldstein, Smith, on the count of three, you will cast the Calvorio Curse on me, at the same time, and Miss Granger will demonstrate that she can deflect it." He said, giving Hermione what she knew was a wicked smile.

She was going to be the one who ended up on her arse after all. At least, figuratively. The Calvorio curse, while it wouldn't hurt him, it would make him bald, and he'd not be happy with her if she failed.

"I hope your trust in me, Professor is well-founded." She said, taking her stance. Both of these students looked bewildered and confused but took their positions. 

Hermione exhaled deeply, feeling inside herself for the strength to do this spell. Even as students, this would be something to be considered lightly.

"One." Severus counted, and Hermione stood behind him and off to the side to see the casters.

When he counted to three, both the students cast without hesitation, sending yellow lights from the end of their wands at Severus. 

Something in her gut jumped at the sight, and the spells were blocked by the thick white bubble she erected around him, the words coming out of her with such force that she startled herself.

Severus seemed pleased with the result and gave her a nod before turning back to the student body.

"You all will now take turns defending a partner against an unfriendly spell: Hexes and Charms only, no curses. Gentlemen, you have earned your place as Prefects today, please monitor and assist the others. Go." Again, he used the commanding voice that made them all do as he asked quickly.

"You could have lost all your hair; you know that." She said, moving to step down the dueling platform.

"Granger, if I know anything about you at all, you would give your very life to prevent someone else from coming to harm. I was not concerned." He offered and pointed to a platform where the 2nd and 3rd years were pairing up.

"If you will monitor them, I shall take this part of the room. Thank Professor for your help."

"You are welcome. I am glad you invited me." She offered, heading over to the students.

This had settled it. Something was going on. Severus was acting strange and now just paid her a compliment, at least, it seemed like a compliment. She wasn't sure what it was, but Snape was up to something.


	11. Educated Framing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Once he’d finish healing his wound and changed his robe, he went to Minerva. It was hard to keep her from worrying that Weasley had attacked him, but he had more important things to explain. He’d devised a plan to help Miss Granger in more ways than just her mental state, and they relied heavily on Minerva offering her aid. It was easy to convince the woman once she realized what he had up his sleeve. 

Minerva was worried that Hermione would come back in a devastating state and asked that Severus wait in her room for her to return. 

This is why Severus was sitting at the doors, cursing as the wards refused to budge. Whatever Granger had done, she’d made it that even his authority as Deputy Headmaster would not move them. It was impressive, but he assumed he should have expected her protective magics to be even more advanced.

Especially after the spell she cast when Weasley had taken a cheap shot. 

Turning a protection spell into an ally spell without the modifier said was a substantial piece of intention-based magic. It meant that she earnestly wanted him to be protected from the redhead idiot.

Her skill was helpful then, but now it was a hindrance.

“Severus, I came as soon as I got your Patronus, what is the matter?” She asked, and he offered her an irritated look.

“It seems Miss Granger has either specifically set the wards so I cannot enter or has prevented anyone from entering.” He explained, and Minerva looked confused, coming to look at the entrance.

It was a fresco of a Medusa defending her cave from men with pitchforks. The Medusa ignored Severus entirely, but when Minerva walked up to it, asking for admittance, she turned her head, smiling at the woman.

“My charge has bid me that only you may enter Headmistress.” The Medusa said.

“And Professor Snape?” Minerva asked, and the serpent headed woman looked at him with disdain.

“If he accompanies you. My charge is not here.”

The Headmistress nodded, her hands closed in front of her. “We are going to wait for her.”

The Medusa nodded, her hair striking her attackers as she spoke. “Very well, you must answer a riddle; my charge said you would know it instantly. What word in the English language does the following: the first two letters signify a male, the first three letters signify a female, the first four letters signify a great man, while the entire word signifies a great woman. What is the word?”

Severus was impatient at this point, but waited, expecting Minerva to have the answer. He was a touch shocked when Minerva looked at him with hopes of a solution.

The Medusa smiled maliciously. “Perhaps she overestimated you. A hint I am allowed to offer, only once. The world sees her as such, yet, she feels unworthy of the title. If you remove one letter of her name, you will know the word.”

Severus took a moment, thinking over the question.

  
  
_Male, Female, Great Man, Great Woman._  
_What title does Hermione feel she is unworthy of?_  
_He, Him, His, Her, Hers, She… He, Her…_  
_Hermione… Ermione…_  
_Herm… oh… Hero…_  
_H-e-r-m-i-o-n-e…_  
_Remove the M…_  
_You get Heroine…_

“Heroine.” He said curiously, and the Medusa hissed at him, obviously displeased that he had answered.

“You are correct. You may enter.”

The Fresco shifted and opened, allowing them admittance.

Severus was surprised at what he saw.

Which was nothing. There was not a single trace that the woman had been staying here for a week at all. That was peculiar. Where were her books, notes, and things that he expected someone of her mind to have at the ready?

“Severus, do you think she has nothing?” Minerva asked, obviously as confused as he was.

“I couldn’t tell you honestly. However, I know Granger stays here.” Severus offered upon seeing the old ginger cat lying on the bed. “Her familiar is here.”

“Crookshanks?” He heard Minerva say, and the cat looked up, flicking its tail before laying its head back down.

“I suppose that is what she calls him. I expect she will be back soon, Minerva. You can go rest; I will alert you as soon as she arrives.”

Minerva looked around, her face crestfallen, and nodded. “Do find out if she came here with only what she has on her back. I can’t bear to think that she left everything behind.”

“I will, Headmistress.” He offered as she left him there.

Assuming it would not be that long for Granger to return, he took a seat in one of the chairs facing the fireplace. Crossing one leg over the other, he looked around. There were many plausible reasons that Hermione could not have unpacked. 

It could have been not having energy. He’d noticed the woman rarely slept.

Or perhaps she honestly didn’t have anything to unpack.

But Severus knew that wasn’t true. He’d seen her pull all manner of things from that beaded bag at her side in the week she’d been here. 

The spy in him kept telling him what he knew had to be true. She wasn’t getting comfortable in case she had to run.

Severus knew all about the Golden Trio’s escape to the Forest of Dean. He’d been there for a time himself, getting the sword of Gryffindor to the boy. He’d been impressed with how hard it had been to find them, and he knew it was not Potter who was so thorough. 

That did bother Severus a bit. If she ran and did the same thing, they’d likely never find her. 

One day, if Hermione Granger decided that she was going to disappear, he was confident she could. 

The mere fact that she left no personal items around added to his thoughts. A cat was quickly scooped up in a hasty retreat.

He would need to make sure that she did not need to flee. That she would stay in place in the castle. If Weasley got to her so badly that she fled, everything he was trying to do would be for nothing. Severus had a vested interest now, and that meant he needed to ensure its success.

Severus sat for several hours, waiting and getting impatient. When he knew it was nearly two in the morning, he decided to go to his rooms and return in the morning for her. Obviously, she had stayed the night at Potter’s house. A check of the clock told him that she was still there.

He walked up to the door and put his hand on it, pushing to open it.

It did not move.

He tried pulling, casting spells, cursing, and even shouting “Heroine” at the door. The last thing only got the cruel laughter of the Medusa.

Severus sat down, now aggravated and seemingly trapped. Whatever Granger had done, it was not letting him leave.

A pop alerted him to a house-elf, and he looked at the little being who was wearing a sparkly party hat.

“Oh, Professor Snape, Queenie did not know Professor Granger had a guest. Queenie has come to feed Crookshanks, as Professor Granger has not been here all day.”

“Can you open the door to let me out?” He asked the elf, and she looked at him perplexed and then at the door. 

She snapped her fingers, and nothing happened. Severus watched as she tried several different ways, but nothing worked.

“Please forgive Queenie; it seems she cannot.” The house-elf said, looking upset.

“Very well, I will wait for Miss Granger.”

“Would you like Queenie to bring you anything?”

“No, it hopefully won’t be long.”

  
Hours passed slowly, as Severus had nothing but a lazy cat and his mind with him. He’d fallen asleep in the chair as it hit ten o’clock in the morning.

Shortly after he dozed off, he heard the floo in the bedroom fire up. Severus sat still listening as he heard her walk into the room. Did she notice him?

“Hello, Handsome.” Severus heard her coo softly.

He stood with a start, obviously confused. When he looked at Granger, he could see her shock. “I do not think that is an appropriate address, Miss. Granger.” 

He watched as the shock in her eyes quickly shifted to fear, and her eyes widened.

“How, how did you get in here?” Hermione asked him, and he could hear the panic in her voice.

He would have to explain to her that he had not meant to frighten her. Severus admitted that he had not thought that being there without her letting him in would cause her to feel insecure. It’d been a long time since he looked through the lens of trauma and constant fear.

“The Headmistress asked me to come and check on you. As Deputy Headmaster, she and I have the ability to request access to staff rooms. Your wards wouldn’t allow me entry without her. Please forgive the intrusion. After telling her what had transpired, Minerva felt prudent I wait for you to return.” Severus explained, hoping it would ease her mind.

He waited and watched. When her face seemed to relax, then he allowed his irritation to show through. He’d been trapped in here for nearly twelve hours.

“However, your wards have not allowed me to leave. So I have been here with your kneazle, in your empty quarters” He gestured to the cat that had been nothing but a piece of furniture the whole time he’d been there. 

He watched as her face dropped instantly, and she began her apologizing.

“I am so sorry; I hadn’t expected someone would be in here without me to let them come or go.”

The fact that she always felt like she needed to apologize was expected, all things considered, but still irritating. “Granger, please stop your incessant apologizing. I am here to inquire after your wellbeing. What would you like me to tell the Headmistress?”

Severus watched, trying to decipher the myriad of emotions that fluttered across her face. He’d never really paid all that much attention before, but she had a very expressive face. He could read the exhaustion on her brow, the concern, traces of fear in her jaw. 

  
She seemed to come to her answer. “Tell her I’m fine. Harry and Ginny took care of me.” 

Hermione walked toward the door, and he understood that she wanted him to leave. He stopped, looking around at the room he’d been in for a while.

He had promised Minerva to ask, and he was also rather curious. 

“I see. Miss Granger, indulge me. Why have you not unpacked?” 

  
She gave pause, her eyes sweeping over the room before her brown eyes met his. “I suppose I haven’t had the time. It’s a lot to do.”

“Would you like some assistance, surely you must be going mad without your books. I know I would be.” He found himself offering to help before he’d thought about it. It wasn’t a lie either, without his books and his music, he thought he’d have driven himself to madness long ago.

Severus noted that fear was more evident in her features, her eyes moving to the windows behind her. “No, I can do it. I’ll do it after I’ve had a rest.”

“The Potter children wear you out?” It was a question born of pure curiosity. She had seemed at ease with the offspring of the pair.

He moved toward the door, looking at her as he did. He noticed there was something in the untamed mane that was her hair.

It provided an opportunity that he’d thought he’d lost.

He stopped her from talking as he looked more closely at her. It was a food of some sort, and he prayed it had not been in the mouth of a child before it was placed there.

“Granger, stop. You've-” Severus reached toward her head, grasping the piece of food and several strands of her hair. He gave a yank, not too hard as to hurt her, but to remove it. “-food it seems, in your hair.”

It was sticky, and he was not pleased with the sensation. A sleight of hand put it into his pocket, which he would have to clean thoroughly, and he flicked his wand to make it seem as if he had dismissed it. The whole interaction was gross, for lack of a better word, but Severus had what he needed.

“Ah, yes, toddlers. Thank you. I should shower. Please, tell the Headmistress I am okay, and I am sorry about you being locked in my rooms.” She said, ushering him out of the room. He was just as eager to get out and be somewhere else than the four-walled prison.

“Indeed. See you at dinner, Miss Granger.” He offered, and the door closed on him. 

The Medusa was smiling, sitting atop a pile of bodies. He gave her a withering glare, and she cackled as he turned heel and walked away. The cackling followed him down the hall. Severus was not amused.

In his rooms, he pulled the wad of pastry and syrup from his pocket, using his wand to separate the hairs from the food. The food was dismissed, but the hair was bottled, tucked next to a vial that contained red hairs.

The first thing he did was a shower, and once he was in clean clothes, he looked at the mail that had been placed on his desk by his house-elf. The very first one caught his eye, and he picked it up. It was addressed to him from Harry Potter, who he’d just seen the night before.

**Severus,**

**Whatever you have planned for Ron, I want in.**

**Harry**

  
Under it was another letter, this in the more careful handwriting of Mrs. Potter.

**Professor Snape,**

**Harry told me that you want to help Hermione and that you need to know what she likes and liked before my degenerate brother hurt her so badly. I am providing a list of all the things I know about her over the years. I hope this helps. And if you need my assistance in whatever you have planned for Ron, you know where to find me. I appreciate what you are doing for Hermione, so if you need my help with her, please, just ask.**

**Regards,**  
**Ginerva Potter**

  
Severus was impressed that they were providing a united front against Mr. Weasley, even though he was Ginerva’s flesh and blood. It spoke volumes for how much they cared for the witch, and he could respect that. He opened the folded list that was behind Mrs. Potter’s letter. It had more than he expected.

  * Coffee flavored Bonbons
  * Spearmint (tea, toothpaste, oil)
  * The Smell of Fresh Cut Grass
  * New Parchment Smell
  * New Book Smell
  * Books on everything and anything
  * Learning about something new
  * Intelligent conversation
  * Muggle Pop Music (it is her guilty pleasure)
  * Muggle Trance Music (It is not as relaxing as it sounds)
  * Order and structure to her day (she used to have a planner for everything, but I haven’t seen it in years)
  * Compliments on her brains
  * Praise for work well done
  * Partnering on complicated experiments, projects, theories
  * The Color Blue
  * Blue Hydrangeas
  * Blue Hyacinth
  * Blue Morning Glory
  * Periwinkles
  * Fighting Injustice
  * Being made to feel like she is useful and helpful
  * Being right
  * New moon nights



He applauded Ginny Potter on her extensive research into Granger. It had to have come from years of knowing the witch. Severus looked over the list and began thinking of ways to try to insert these things into the young woman’s life. Surely something on this list would rejuvenate her spirit, even for a little while. He had a stack of books he’d gotten from the bookstore in Diagon on helping victims of abuse, and he planned on finishing them by the end of the week. He’d have to juggle them with his course load, but it was the first time in a long time that Severus felt busy. It was a little exciting.

With the list in hand, he decided to take a quick trip to Hogsmeade.

* * *

For the next week, Severus treated Hermione Granger like she was a target. He made it his business to know where she was and what she was doing. Years as a spy helped him, but he did feel a touch rusty as he knew she’d seen him follow her at least once.

He decided that every day, he’d do one considerate thing for her. Nothing too much as to put her off or frighten her, just doing enough to brighten her mood for the day. If he could keep her in an elevated mood for an extended period, he could help her brain recover from the trauma. He’d read that positive reinforcement and sustained periods of happiness could produce chemicals in her to help with her other issues, such as her eating and sleeping habits. 

To help her with those, he’d made special arrangements with her disturbed party hat-wearing house-elf. He’d learned that Hermione always took tea before bed and coffee in the morning. Severus had managed to convince the elf to give her a relaxant in her tea at night. Then in the morning, an appetite booster in her coffee. He had to explain to the house-elf why, but since the creature had a desire to help the young woman, she agreed.

On Monday, he waited until the perfect time to get Granger alone and in a public enough place to not feel threatened. He’d read that providing trauma victims with clear exits provided a sense of security and control. When she stumbled down the stairs, he caught her, helping her to stand. It was easy for him to act as if he was irritated by her movements. He used the same eloquence and manipulation he’d done in the war to offer her the book he’d purchased on Sunday. It was a topic he thought suited her, considering her work in the Department of Magical Creatures. He watched her take a smell of it and smile when he’d walked away. Something in his chest felt good at seeing the reaction.

Tuesday, he brought the box of chocolates he’d bought, with one removed to keep up the illusion and offered it to her. Acting dismayed at the flavor and threatening to throw them away was all he needed to get her to take them. The noise of pleasure she made when she ate one was almost obscene. The more he thought about it; it was filthy. Aside from that, however, she seemed to joy in her step as she moved around the castle. He’d noticed then that she had started eating a proper amount as well. It appeared he owed a house-elf a new party hat.

Severus had spent all night looking up a topic that he could discuss with Granger that he wouldn’t be bored by and hoped she hadn’t already looked into. It wasn’t until he came across the skull doubling curse that he got the idea to ask her about its positive implications. When breakfast came around, he was nearly an expert on the spell. She surprised him then, with her knowledge on the topic and how it could benefit not just head injuries. She speculated that if it could be modified, it could help other bones. He found himself leaving the conversation just as pleased as she seemed. Severus could not remember when he felt like he was on equal ground with someone in a discussion in a long time.

The Weasley Project, as he had dubbed it, was where he decided to offer her a challenge. What George Weasley wanted to make wasn’t impossible, but it was difficult. It was a line of products that affected emotions and helped ease the symptoms of shell shocked that some still have from the war. Severus saw potential now in making something that could help Hermione in addition to providing his end of the bargain. Hermione seemed hesitant to accept his offer at first, so Severus was patient. He’d read that trauma victims often felt like they did not have choices, thus forcing them into making one could have an adverse effect. It didn’t take her long to agree, and he promised to divulge all the details when the students left.

Severus knew that Dueling Club would offer her many different things. He suspected it would appeal to her need to teach, and her need to be right and be acknowledged for her achievements. He already had a plan in place, and he just needed to make sure that she was there. He’d sent a younger student to get her, reading that children were often less threatening to someone in recovery than adults. By the end of the week, Severus could nearly read every sign in Hermione that showed her abuse.

It had also opened his eyes to a few of his students’ behaviors, and he’d had a long discussion with Minerva about it. When the break was over, they planned on holding a staff meeting about noticing these signs and how to help them feel safe in the school.

Having had taken the time to dress in dueling robes, Severus waited for Granger to show up, allowing students to practice before she arrived. He’d not told her that she would be helping in a demonstration, but that was part of his plan.

When she walked in, he had to stop the frown on his face. Her robes were masterfully made, but he could see that they were at least two sizes, of not more, too big. He wondered how much weight she’d lost in the depression. The colors suited her; they were a lapis blue with a silver otter coming up over the shoulder.

He could tell she hadn’t seen him yet, as her eyes were moving over the students. She had an expression of amazement and surprise on her face. It made her look younger, and he found he liked to see her this happy. It was vital for her and the school if she was pleased, he corrected himself.

“Ah, there you are, Granger.” He said smoothly, stepping to her side.

She smiled at him, and he had to resist returning it. 

Her voice was full of pride and joy and something he couldn’t put his finger on. “This is amazing. I’m so glad you did this for the students.”

He made for the center platform, giving her a grateful nod. “I had some inspiration from a fellow student of yours, Mr. Longbottom and his wife, previously Ms. Abbott. We’d discussed it as a needed replacement for your underground club.”

Severus gave her a raised eyebrow, wondering how she would react to the fact that he’d modeled the club after something she’d been a founding member of. Her face said it all, shock racing over her features and crashing into her mouth as her jaw seemed to fall for a moment. A warmth filled his chest again, and he knew it was pride in his work, nothing else.

Now was the moment that he would introduce the demonstration he had in mind. He already had a feeling that she would not say no. “I’d like to give them a demonstration of the spell you used this weekend. Many of them may have to defend someone else in their life, which could prove useful.” Of course, he wanted to see her cast the spell again and knew that for some of these children living in a post-war world, it could save a life.

“Ah, yes, I’ll follow your lead.” He watched her nod as she spoke to him.

“Very well.” 

Severus called the duel going on to a halt, offering winning points to both parties. He had students clear the platform before he spoke. “Attention. You will all end your duels now and come to the middle platform.” 

He looked down at her, inclining his head in invitation. “Professor Granger, if you would join me.” 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her wordlessly climb up and into a position opposite him. Her hands were closed over her wand, and he could read that she had closed body language. He hoped having her up in front of the students would not cause her a problem.  
  
“Professor Granger, as you know, is an established duelist. While never competing, she did fight in the war, and I feel that grants her more esteem than any trophy. She will be assisting me as we show you how to protect someone aside from yourself.” Severus was sure to make sure that his words sounded like a compliment because they were. Nothing he said was a lie, as he felt she’d more than earned accolades in fighting other wizards.

“Ambrose, stand in front of Professor Granger.” He pointed at the small Hufflepuff girl. As the little girl made her way up on the stage, he began to explain what they would be doing.

Pacing the stage, he made sure the students listened to him as he gave his stern lecturing look. “As many of you have experienced, most defensive spells only affect the area you are in. In Chapter 17, for my 3rd years and up, spells can be modified with different suffixes and prefixes. This is beneficial if you need to protect someone, not in your immediate reach. An entire study of magic used by Aurors focuses on protecting others. You will be learning them since it is not a trade secret of our law enforcement.” 

He turned to her now, the young girl confused, and Granger was continuing to look impressed. 

“Professor Granger. I am going to cast a hex at the student in front of me. You will demonstrate how to cast a protection spell on another person. Please use all the words this time, as many of our students cannot cast intent-based magic.” Severus explained, walking back to the farthest mark and taking his position.

Professor Granger took a focusing breath and did the same, watching him.

He counted slowly. The room was so quiet that a pinfall would have sounded like an explosion.

On the count of three, he released his spell. “ _FLIPENDO_!” 

Severus knew his faith in her protective nature was spot on as she reacted with fluid grace. “ _ALLI PROTEGO MAXIMA!_ ” Seeing her cast made him sure that he was right about where she’d put the focus of her spells. It was a powerful protective magic that surrounded the child.

“As you can see, modifiers to existing spells can change how they work,” Severus said, straightening up and turning to the students. “Now, that was simple hex, easy to deflect. Ten points to our volunteer.”

Severus eyed the group until he spotted who he would need now. His two top duelists, a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin who had the least defeats in the whole club. He summoned then up with a gesture, and they were both moving up on to the platform. This was where he tested a theory.

He moved to her side of the range, standing where the student had before. “Goldstein, Smith, on the count of three, you will cast the Calvorio Curse on me, at the same time, and Miss Granger will demonstrate that she can deflect it.”

Severus gave her a smile that challenged her as he stood there, his arms crossed.

Her sharp intake of breath was unmistakable, and he heard her speak to him. “I hope your trust in me, Professor is well-founded.”

Rather than answer her, he started to count, just as slowly as he had before. The tension in the room was palpable. The students had never seen him allow a student to try to curse him. Nor had they ever seen Hermione Granger duel. He could hear her let out a deep breath. 

When he reached three, Severus was pleased that his students did not hesitate to do as they were told. It meant that even though they were afraid of him, they would stand up against what they were afraid of. As the curses came hurling his way, he heard the powerful tone in her voice as she cast the spell over him. The curses dissipated. He noted that this was a much thicker shield than what she’d put over the girl. 

To say he was pleased was an understatement. He might have discovered the key to unlocking Granger’s fighting spirit. While she would protect a student, her spell to protect him was more potent. Somehow the fool girl had gotten the notion that it was her job to save him, and while it was unnecessary, it could prove useful. He gave her a nod and turned back to the students.

He ordered them to disperse. “You all will now take turns defending a partner against an unfriendly spell: Hexes and Charms only, no curses. Gentlemen, you have earned your place as Prefects today, please monitor and assist the others. Go.” 

She turned to him as she stepped off the platform. “You could have lost all your hair; you know that.” 

A bemused expression crept over his face. “Granger, if I know anything about you at all, you would give your very life to prevent someone else from coming to harm. I was not concerned.” Severus pointed to the beginners, planning on working with the more advanced student himself. “If you will monitor them, I shall take this part of the room. Thank Professor for your help.”

He noticed that she stumbled over her thanks. “You are welcome. I am glad you invited me.”

Without another word, he went on to his side of the room, leaving her to hers. He would glance over from time to time, seeing how she showed the younger students the correct hand movements for the necessary spell. Severus noticed the ease in which she moved around them. Being at school was the best place for her. 

Everything he’d read so far had allowed him to understand her a bit better. She’d come here because it was someplace she felt safe. Even with everything that had ever happened to her here, it was safer than where she’d been. Before seeing the issue with her standing for the abuse for so long, he now saw determination. She’d refused to give up, and that was a sign of strength. Even now, when her world was falling apart, she’d not given up. The fact that she did not resign herself to her fate and got up and left spoke of her strength of will. The fact that she got up every day and tried to move on with her life, despite the things that scared her, showed that Gryffindor Bravery.

The more he’d researched and read everything he could his hands on, the more he understood about her, and even himself. As loathe as he was to think about it, he’d shown many signs that he was suffering from depression for years. There hadn’t been a word for it; he just accepted that he was miserable and would always be unhappy. While he didn’t feel it was as bad as it had been, he could see that many of the things he’d just accepted were, in fact, mutable if he desired to do the work.

When Dueling Club was over, he thanked her again, explaining that he would like it if she regularly attended to help the students. He posed it in such a way that she would be doing him a favor, noting that Potter had said she thrived on being needed. It pleased him that she agreed, and he found himself in a good mood for the rest of the day.

At dinner, he was reminded that it was the last Hogsmeade Weekend for the students. That meant he needed to escort them around and make sure they didn’t get into trouble. When Minerva suggested that he pair up with both Granger, he agreed. It would allow him to ensure that nothing could happen off school grounds, and he could continue to do one kind thing for her a day.

“Professor Snape, I know we are supposed to be watching the children, but I do have to do some shopping for my nieces and nephews,” Hermione explained, and he did his best to look put out.

“I suspect you are asking me to go with you into these shops.”

“Oh, Merlin, no, I was just letting you know that I’d need to make a few stops. I wouldn’t subject you to my holiday shopping.” Granger explained, looking like it would be torture for him to attend her.

“Professor Granger, I feel that it would be prudent that you not wander Hogsmeade unattended.” Severus offered, implying he had no intention of letting her be in a position where the redhead menace could cause trouble.

She seemed to think about it and then nodded. “You might be right.” Her exhale was one of nervous energy, and he gave her an affirming look.

“I will ensure, Miss Granger, that you have no trouble with the outing. You can trust me for that.” He said, getting to his feet to leave for the evening.

“I shall see you in the morning. I would bring a scarf; it is supposed to be rather cold.” He left her with a nod and went to his rooms. 

Severus pulled out the clock that he’d taken from Weasley. He would need to take it with him tomorrow, to know if the man was nearby. Making all the preparations that he needed for the outing tomorrow, he made sure to include the blue planner he’d managed to locate for her. If he could get Granger back into her way of ordering her life, perhaps she would have more feelings of control. 

Tucking into bed with one of his many books on trauma, he read until his eyes could no longer focus. Only then did he fall asleep, hoping that all this work would pay off and also that Weasley would not come and destroy any progress she had made.


	12. Hogsmeade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> There is a potentially graphic flashback of violence in this scene that could trigger someone who has suffered abuse. Please be advised.

Hermione awoke to feel rested. For the last week, since she’d been at Harry’s, she’d been able to sleep better. It was because it was out in the open. As much as she feared what Harry would think, he’d proved to be the person she always knew. The weight off of her chest had her drifting off to sleep as soon as she hit the pillow.

Getting her shower out of the way and spelling her hair dry, she found her cup of coffee sitting on her side table with a scone next to it. It had tendrils of steam rising off the top, and she happily took a sip, letting the warmth flood her senses. Queenie had found a new roast that smelt like cocoa and almonds, and Hermione had fallen in love with its heady aroma.

She ate the scone, pulling out her heavier cloak from the bag at her side. It was supposed to be below freezing today.

_Bring a scarf…_ She remembered that Severus had mentioned it.

Hermione still hadn’t put her finger on what was going on with the man. Part of her wondered if this was what Minerva had been talking about. Was he indeed a nicer person now, and he was finally easing into it around her. It seemed hard to believe.

Hermione was finishing her coffee when she heard her door move.

“The man-shaped viper is here. Shall I ask him to leave?” The Medusa’s face appeared on her door, and Hermione looked at her, confused. “Severus Snape is requesting to see you.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes at her door guardian and nodded. “Tell him I will be out in just a moment.”

“As you wish.”

She pat Crookshanks on the head and went to the door, making sure she had everything. The door opened for her. Severus was cross at the Medusa, who was cackling at him.

“Good Morning Severus? Did you need something?” Hermione had been sure that they were supposed to meet in the courtyard after breakfast to guide the students, but it was her first time as a teacher.

“Yes, may I have your wrists, please.” He said, offering his hand out.

This was odd, but she offered him her hands. She watched with confusion as he placed a small silver chain on her left wrist.

“This has an anti-apparation jinx on it. Should someone try to side-along you, they will be unable to. I will remove it for you once we return.” He quietly explained his eyes on his hands as he fastened a second one, with a blue flower charm on it. “A portkey that will deliver you directly to the staff room. I’ve given it an activation word to prevent accidents. Simply grasp it and say, Crookshanks.”

He let her hands go and gave her a satisfied look.

Hermione looked at both of them in appreciation. She’d not thought about what would happen if someone had tried to get away with her in tow. The fact that Severus had made her feel safer.

“Thank you.” She meant it, smiling at him.

“It is to ensure I do not have to go halfway around the world to retrieve you. If we get separated today and find yourself in trouble, I expect you to show some restrain of your Gryffindor zeal and get to safety.” It was said in such a way that she almost felt like he was compelling her to do so.

“I will do my best. Are you on your way to breakfast, I am famished.” She said her stomach revolting that she’d only had a scone and coffee. Her appetite had started to come back, and the horrid stomach aches she suffered seemed to have subsided. Hermione was sure it had to do with eating regularly.

“I am.” He turned, and she moved in step with him, walking alongside him.

“Have your classes been going well?” Hermione heard him ask as his eyes roved the hallways.

It had startled her a bit, as she had expected to walk in silence with him. Severus usually walked in silence. Perhaps he wanted to know how she was adapting to teaching.

A smile graced her face. Her classes had been going well. Anadora had given her full reign of the third years, and it was easier than she first thought it would be. She knew the topic well, having grown up in a muggle home and have kept in touch with things there.

“Well. They are going well. And you?” Hermione replied in kind.

“As to be expected. Mid-term exams have begun for my advanced classes. While I appreciate not having to worry about being blown up by an inexperienced brewer, having to dodge poorly cast spells by reckless youth is not much better.” Severus said.

Hermione was shocked. He’d answered her, and it’d been an actual answer. She was searching for the sarcasm but found it lacking.

“Professor Anadora speaks highly of you.” He offered no follow up.

“Oh? That’s kind of her. She is a good teacher. How long has she been teaching her.” There was a reasonable pride in her voice at them had been discussing her positively.

He looked like he was thinking and then looked at her. “Two years ago. Minerva had hired her under recommendations from across the pond.”

“I thought she’d been here longer.”

“No, she has just worked very hard to get what she wants. I suspect, had she been a student, she would have been of my house.” Severus said, holding the door open for her as they entered the great hall.

“She went to Illvermony?” Hermione asked, curious as to where she’d gone to school.

He shook his head, his eyes looking around. “Private academy, Salem’s School for Witches.”

“Oh?” Hermione said, seeing the woman in question and smiling at her. Maria smiled back as they rounded the table.

“Good Morning Hermione, Severus. You seem happy.” The woman said, and Hermione took her seat next to her.

“I think I may have finally adjusted to the class schedule again.”

“Splendid. You are going to Hogsmeade, correct?” Professor Anadora asked, and Hermione nodded.

“Yes. Did you need something?” Hermione would have no issue picking something up for the woman if she needed it. She would not imagine having her make the walk and back in the snow. Hermione had become rather protective over the woman, not letting her strain herself too much. She’d even taken to running her letters to her fiance up to the Owlery, so she knew the woman wasn’t doing it herself.

The happiness in her brown eyes told Hermione that she did need something. “I would die for a box of licorice-flavored anything. I will happily pay for it; I don’t want to make the trip myself.”

“It is not an issue, I’ll happily get it for you. Is there anything else?” Hermione asked, reaching for a piece of toast.

“No, no, just the licorice. That is a lovely bracelet, have you been wearing it this whole time and I am just now noticing?” Maria asked, gesturing to the blue flower on the delicate chain. Hermione, without thinking, looked at Severus, whose eyes were on her, but he wasn’t looking directly at her. 

His eyes very clearly told her that he wanted no part of this and that the gift’s nature should not be widely known. 

It made sense to her; after all, if everyone knew that she had portkey on her wrist to escape danger, they would know that something was happening.

“I just got it. It is a gift from a friend.” Hermione said, turning back to Maria with a smile.

“Well, it is beautiful. Understated but just enough to catch the eye.” 

Hermione wasn’t sure how to react under these circumstances, so she gave a soft laugh and nodded. “I suppose so.”

Before Hermione knew it, breakfast was over, and it was time to brave the cold snow. Pulling a hat down over her hair, she wrapped her scarf around her next, tucking it into her jacket.

Minerva was out there, checking slips and students, and she gave Hermione a piece of paper. “These are the list of students who are meant to be out in Hogsmeade.” The older woman offered with haste as she counted children.

“Professor Granger.” She heard a small voice at her elbow. Hermione looked down, and the 2nd year she’d protected during Severus’s demonstration was there. 

“You know you cannot come to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, kneeling to her level.

“I know, but I wanted to say thank you. I was too scared yesterday, but Professor Longbottom said that it would be kind of me to tell you thanks.”

Hermione felt a warmth in her chest and touched the little girl’s arm, giving her a soft squeeze. “You are most welcome. Now, get inside before you catch your death or worse, get detention.”

The girl made a squeak and turned around, heading back into the building, still smiling. Hermione felt good after the interaction, and she grinned. She’d have to catch up with Neville; she felt horrid that she’d not even had the chance to take him up on the tea he’d offered. Maybe over break, Hermione would see him and his wife. Oh no, wait, she’d promised Severus to help him with his project. Surely he wouldn’t need her all break.

Looking around, even though it was frigid, it was still a gorgeous day. Tucking her chin into her scarf, she found Severus looking at her. She tilted her head at him, giving him one of his eyebrow raises before walking over to him.

“Did I miss you calling for me?” She asked him, and he shook his head.

“No, but do come along, we’ve got the herd these cats there and back today. And you’ve still got shopping to do.” Severus said, curtly turning, walking behind the students who had already begun the trek to the village. 

Hermione caught up to his long stride, and he seemed to slow so that she did not have to struggle. She was thankful; his legs were so long that she was confident that he could outpace her with a determined pace without breaking a sweat.

As opposed to their cordial conversation on the way to breakfast, this walk was silent, save for them having to correct students. She noticed that his mood seemed to have soured, and she wasn’t sure what she had done to do it. Maybe it was just the cold. She’d try to convince him to get cocoa later if he even drank it.

* * *

Hermione was amazed at how similar this trip to Hogsmeade was to her own as a student. It was mostly milling about, looking through shops, and making purchases. Severus had stuck at her side, occasionally stopping off to startle some rule-breaking student before returning, right to where he had been before.

His presence was unnerving her, and she couldn’t understand why. He was tense; she could see it in the line of his jaw and how his eyes never stopped moving. Maybe this was just how handled Hogsmeade visits, they were there to protect the students.

The day was coming close. Many students were at the Three Broomsticks or having already made their way back to the castle. They would only have another hour or so before everyone was ushered into the castle.

At the joke shop, she stopped, and he did the same. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Indeed.” He seemed to growl, and Hermione was happy to be away from how stressed he was making her. Looking through the shop, she tried to think of what to get for Harry and Gin’s kids, and Bill and Fleur’s two girls. Well, she knew what she was getting the girls. It was just to find something special for the little ones.

Taking a few moments, she found a book of practical jokes that made her snicker. She was sure that Harry would love to read it to James and Lily. She also found a plush purple pigmypuff for little Lily. All she needed to do now was stop by the book store for Victorie and Dominique’s gifts.

Stepping outside, she saw that Severus was not waiting for her. He’d likely found another group of rule-breakers and would be by in a moment. She considered waiting for him, weighing the options. If he took too long, she’d not get the girl’s book, but if she went without him, he’d come back and wait, and she’d not be there. 

_Are you a witch or not?_ Hermione thought to herself, casting her Patronus to find him and let him know she’d moved on to the bookshop.

It was hard to explain, but part of Hermione felt sad that Severus seemed miserable at this excursion. 

Her purchase at the bookshop was done, and she caught sight of Severus coming her way, so she moved to Honeyduke’s to pick up what she’d ordered for Maria. She knew how cravings could be, so she made sure to get her as much as they had. Hermione was tucking the bag of licorice into her bag when Severus got up to her side.

“Finished your holiday shopping?” He asked tensely, not looking at her, but looking around. She did her own cursory glance, seeing children being children and throwing snow at each other.

“I did, thank you. How much longer until we head back?”

“Another hour, but we will start rounding students up to head back shortly,” Severus said, and she felt his body tense. 

Hermione realized he was incredibly close to her, and the way he was standing was like he was hiding her.

A wash of dread crept into the joy she’d had for most of the day.

“Severus, is he here?” She whispered, swallowing a hard lump back. She started toying with her scarf nervously, trying to see what he saw.

Black eyes looked down at her, and she shook a bit with the intensity. Severus looked like the man who had been on the other side of the wand from Harry that night when the world turned upside down. “I believe so. You will take the main avenue back toward the castle. Act normal, usher the children back toward Hogwarts. If you hear something, do not come back.”

It was not a request, it was an order, and Hermione nodded, feeling all the peace escape her with a shaken breath. His tone spoke volumes about what he thought might happen.

“Please don’t get yourself hurt on my account. I’m not worth it.” She whispered eyes lowered to the ground.

“I am the one who will decide that. Now go, Granger.” He said, sweeping his robe to the side and marching across the street. 

Hermione lifted her chin and did as he asked to best of her ability. There were children here, who she would not let them get hurt because of Ron’s wrath. Her hands shook, so she shoved them into her pockets.

“Let’s get heading back, it’s getting colder.” She choked out to a group of students, who looked at her and seemed alarmed. 

“Professor Granger, are you okay, you look pale.” One of the older Gryffindor students asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

She shirked away from it and nodded. “Yes, I am far too cold and ready for dinner and warm fire. Are you all ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure, let’s get you warm.” He said, and he put his fingers between his lips, whistling to a group of kids down the way. “Oi, start gathering the house Mary, it’s getting too cold out here. Snatch up the other prefects why you’re at it to, saw Cluergan and Bentons in the Broomsticks.”

Hermione looked at the other boy as he nodded and headed off in the other direction. “You heard the Professor, it’s time to get heading out, get your partners, and let’s head up.”

The students started doing as they were told by the older kids, gathering their belongings and finishing their purchases. Hermione was amazed that the 7th years were so apt at caring for the younger children. That was until she remembered that these children had been the 1st years. They were hiding in the dungeon, scared with limited knowledge of what was going on. It made sense that they were watchful and protective.

Hermione had not been paying attention, so she was surprised when someone bumped into her, knocking her back a step. She looked up and saw him, fear gripping her throat. Ron was under an umber cloak, looking at her angrily.

“Send them along, love. You would hate for them to get hurt.” He whispered, and she looked at the students who were observing her.

She met angry eyes again. Ron would hurt them, just to hurt her. She could see it, just as she could smell the rank whiskey on his breath.

Hermione nodded at the children. “Go on, I’m fine, keep gathering everyone and head for the castle. Make sure you count everyone.”

“Yes, Professor.” They said, and Hermione stood there, stiff as she watched them move toward the bridge.

“You thought you were safe. The next time I got my hands on you, I told you I would pay you in kind for what your boyfriend did to me.” He hissed, and he grabbed her wrist, yanking her into a space between buildings.

“Ron, please, don’t do something stupid.” She pleaded, nearly tripping as he dragged her farther from the avenue.

Hermione’s vision started to shrink as she felt the panic set in on her chest. Her only consolation was that the students would make it back to the castle.

“You choose that git over me.” She heard Ron say just as he threw her into the stone wall. She managed to catch herself before her face collided with the wall, but it did not stop the punch that landed in the center of her back. A second one followed, hitting her in the back of the head. Her forehead smashed into the wall, and she could feel her nose start to bleed.

“You had my brother-in-law throw me in jail.” He snarled, and she curled away, trying to get some distance between them. Her biggest fear now was using the portkey and him latching on and being able to follow her. He swung again, hitting the wall. He made a pained groan and Hermione dove around him, landing on the snow-covered ground as her feet lost traction.

She lifted to her hands and knees, and he grabbed her hat and a handful of hair, snatching her back. “I’m not done with you. You aren’t getting away from me this time. “

Hermione felt the pressure of apparation, but then nothing. Her bracelet shined a bright blue. Shaking her head, she struggled to get away, trying to get him to let go of her hair.

“What did you do?” He snarled, and Hermione wasn’t listening; her heart was pounding too hard, and she just wanted to get away from him. She kicked back, hitting him, and she threw herself forward, scrambling to get to her feet.

A hand snatched her wrist up, and she rose her hand to hit, but the person who had her was not Ron. The look on Severus’s face was murderous. He wasn’t even looking at her, instead, he was looking at the person she was running from. He pulled her up to his side, his body in front of hers.

“Fucking great. What you got a tracer on her too? You put your mark right above mine?” She heard Ron snarl, and a jerk of fear overtook her as she grasped to Severus’s chest.

> She couldn’t see, it was dark, but she could smell it, burning flesh, as she screamed. He was behind her, a hand on her shoulders, pushing her down, and her skin burned. It felt like coal pressed into her skin over and over. Her knees were bound down, her elbows at odd angles. 
> 
> “You think you can just fuck around with Paulson in your department. I know that goblin lover has had his hands all over you. He wanted you because he knows you are so easy. Well, he won’t want you now. You’re mine, and now there is no way he cannot know.” 
> 
> Hermione couldn’t think of words, she just screamed and cried, and when words did come, they were pleading and begging him to stop. The room smelt like rum and vodka and cigars. It was hot, so unbearably hot.

But then it wasn’t, and she was panting, her arms in a vice grip around someone as cold fingers grasped her wrist.

“Crookshanks” She heard someone say and then the pressure and spinning.

Hermione lost the contents of her stomach when everything stopped spinning, and she didn’t let go. Her heart was pounding, her eyes were slammed shut, and the tremors raced through her body. 

Hermione felt a firm arm wrap around her back, and she was shifted around whoever she was holding on to. Hermione’s knees were knocking as she willed the sensations to go away, wished the pain her back would disappear, that she could just stop feeling. Her shoulders began to shake, and Hermione vomited again, letting go and feeling like she was going to fall. She didn’t, someone held her up and moved her hair to the side.

“Get me a calming draught, now.” She heard someone; it sounded like Severus, say. 

But everything was muted and foggy, and she just wanted it all to stop hurting. Her body jerked as she heaved, and she was unable to stop the sobbing that forced through with it. It was too bright to open her eyes, and she was afraid of what she would see if she did.

“Granger.” She heard, the hands holding her up adjusting her, pulling her so that she was leaned against something warm. 

“Hermione, I need you to try to swallow this. It will help, I swear.” 

Something cold was pressed to her lips, and her head tipped back. A cooling liquid filled her mouth, and she tried to swallow it, her crying not subsiding. She felt like she was choking on it for a moment, but it was poured slower, and she was able to get it down.

It slid down her throat, and she felt like someone had poured cold honey into her veins. Everything started to ease, and it wasn’t so loud. Everything hurt, and her head spun still. She rested against the warm object that she was leaned up against.

As everything relaxed, Hermione could not stop herself from closing her eyes. She kept blinking to keep them open, jerking, knowing that danger was just around the corner. 

_She couldn’t be asleep when he came home. It was always the worst then. Did the Cannon’s lose again? Did she put his socks out for him? Did he find the money she hid away? There was too much to do; she couldn’t be asleep when he came home._


	13. Vigilance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> There is potentially graphic violence in this scene that could trigger someone who has suffered abuse. Please be advised.
> 
> Also a quick thank you to everyone who has bookmarked, subscribed, and commented. It has really been inspiring that you all like my story so much. <3

He woke up with an ache in his joints. It wasn’t uncommon not after all his body had been through, but it was not going to make for a pleasant excursion into the cold. He stretched out his limbs as best he could before preparing what he needed.

He’d woken up early because he had to figure out exactly how he was going to do this.

He had two thin silver bracelets, one that he’d made a hyacinth bud charm to attach to it. Minerva had agreed that having an exit plan was essential and so they’d devised two ways to combat their concerns. An anti-apparation jinx would solve unwanted side along apparation. The second had been Severus’s idea; a command activated portkey. They were not uncommon since the events of two dog walkers ending up at a concert several years ago.

Making them had been the easy part, but Severus found himself at a loss of how to get them on to Granger without being awkward. This sort of thing was not his forte, and he had spelled the bracelets only to be removed by him if some spell compelled her to try to take them off.

Gathering the clock, the bracelets, and his overcoat, he left the dungeons. His shoulders and hips still ached, but he knew that once he got moving around for the day, it would subside into the usual aches that he quantified with having survived.

You don’t open death’s door and come back without some kind of damage.

Severus stood outside her door, looking at the wretched beast that hissed at him and waved a weapon threateningly.

“You may not enter without my charge's permission.”

He was not amused and crossed his arms impatiently. Why this painting had taken to mocking him, he hadn’t the faintest idea. “I am here to see Professor Granger.”

“I will see if she wishes to see you.” 

He stood there for several minutes, tapping his foot and glaring as the Medusa imitated him.

The door ground open, the sound of stone moving, and she stepped out. Her face had less of a yellow tint, and she looked less frazzled than the first time he’d seen her at the gate. He had a sense of pride in the improvements.

“Good Morning Severus? Did you need something?” Hermione asked him. She smiled at him, and he appreciated the strength of it.

He held out both of his hands toward her. “Yes, may I have your wrists, please.” 

Severus had gone for the approach of just putting the bracelets on her and explaining as he went. He knew that she trusted him enough to do so. At least, he hoped that she did. It had only been a week of him trying to be kinder, so there was a chance that his expectations were too high.

He watched as she looked him over and then offered her hands in confusion. He started with the jinx charm, as it would need to be on her left side, opposite her wand arm. If she had to cast a spell, there was a chance of interaction, and he wanted to ensure not to cause that problem. 

“This has an anti-apparation jinx on it. Should someone try to side-along you, they will be unable to. I will remove it for you once we return.” Severus spoke to her softly, making sure not to touch her hands more than needed. He did not want to overwhelm her with what could be unwelcome touch. His research had led him to believe that much of her triggers were touch-based, and he wanted her to have a pleasant day.

He pulled out the second bracelet, fastening it to the other wrist. Still speaking with the same low voice, he explained what the charm was. “A portkey that will deliver you directly to the staff room. I’ve given it an activation word to prevent accidents. Simply grasp it and say, Crookshanks.”

He looked at both her wrists, satisfied that they were secure and in place, and he let them go.

Severus watched Hermione jingle her wrists, the bracelets settling into a comfortable position for her. Her face had a touch of gratitude to them, and she met his eyes full of it with another bright smile. “Thank you.” 

Severus explained himself, hoping that she would do as he asked. “It is to ensure I do not have to go halfway around the world to retrieve you. If we get separated today and find yourself in trouble, I expect you to show some restrain of your Gryffindor zeal and get to safety.”.

“I will do my best. Are you on your way to breakfast, I am famished.”

Severus had to press back a smile, knowing that the potions she was getting were working. “I am.” 

He turned, pausing so that she could match his stride. He waited for a few moments before posing a question to her. “Have your classes been going well?” 

His research had informed him that even base small talk could have a positive effect. He was testing the theory, as small talk was one of his banes. He never understood the purpose of saying something benign just to fill the air. At least this conversation would be reasonable, considering their positions.

Her extended silence caused him to flick his eyes toward her direction. Another smile, or the same smile extended, was on her face. 

“Well. They are going well. And you?” She asked him.

He gave a slight tilt of his head. “As to be expected. Mid-term exams have begun for my advanced classes. While I appreciate not having to worry about being blown up by an inexperienced brewer, having to dodge poorly cast spells by reckless youth is not much better.”

He’d already had to put out two accidental fires, but that was nothing compared to the dancing hex he nearly didn’t block. He looked at her expression as Hermione searched him for something, and he decided he did not want the topic to be on him.

_Praise… she blossoms under high praise…_ Severus thought to himself.

“Professor Anadora speaks highly of you.” He offered, hoping to change the course of the dialogue.

She sounded proud when she spoke. “Oh? That’s kind of her. She is a good teacher. How long has she been teaching her.” 

A warm sensation pulsed across his chest, and he recognized that he was proud of her too. It was a peculiar sensation, and he would have to reflect on it later.

He thought for a moment, trying to remember when Anadora had come to Hogwarts. “Two years ago. Minerva had hired her under recommendations from across the pond.”

“I thought she’d been here longer.”

He noted that she sounded almost disappointed by the response. He held the door open for her, allowing her to enter before taking up the place at her side again. “No, she has just worked very hard to get what she wants. I suspect, had she been a student, she would have been of my house.” 

“She went to Illvermony?” 

_Ah, there was the curiosity back…_

“Private academy, Salem’s School for Witches.” He explained with a shake of his head.

“Oh?” 

Severus did not respond, taking his seat and giving a nod to the woman they had been discussing. From her appearance, he surmised that she was taking the supplements that Slughorn had been making her.

“Good Morning Hermione, Severus. You seem happy.” 

Severus then did as he often did when they began to chatter at his side.

He politely ignored them. Their conversations were not his business, and unless they said something that he felt was, he would tune in. Otherwise, he would eat his meal and try to prepare for the mind-numbing task of making sure that students behaved in Hogsmeade.

“-That is a lovely bracelet, have you been wearing it this whole time and I am just now noticing?” Maria said, gesturing to the bracelet on Granger’s wrist.

He looked over as Hermione glanced back at him, and he gave her a pointed stare. He anticipated she had the presence of mind to keep the function of the bracelets a secret. If there was a chance that word got out to someone with connections to Mr. Weasley and no sense of decency, it could cause her problems later.

  
“I just got it. It is a gift from a friend.” 

She turned from him, and Severus was stuck on the word she’d used.

A friend was not a word people used with him, at least, not many. He knew that friends were something that could be used against you. However, it conflicted with what he was trying to help the woman with.

Hermione needed a friend who was going to do the work with her to get her back to her normalcy. 

_Had he genuinely thought about what he was signing up for when he undertook this project?_ Another notion of reflecting on in his journaling later.

“Well, it is beautiful. Understated but just enough to catch the eye.” 

He heard her laugh softly. “I suppose so.”

Severus decided that he was done with his breakfast and went to the courtyard to keep students from sneaking off before they had been counted and approved. Some of the Prefects had already gathered, huddled, and discussing their plans for the day. 

He stifled a grumble as the cold only made his aches worse. Severus was concerned that he might have to take something for it before the end of the day.

“Severus,” Minerva called, and he turned expectantly. 

Headmistress McGonagall handed him a list of approved students. “If something gets out of hand, Aberforth said he’d collect any students and send them via floo. While I was not forthcoming with why I advised the shops, there could be a situation and shelter students in place if there was.”

“I doubt it will come to that, Minerva,” Severus said, having seen Hermione come out into the courtyard. She’d remembered to bring a scarf.

Minerva followed his eyes. “Severus, I do as well, but I will not be unprepared. Did you give her the bracelets?”

“This morning.” Severus was watching Granger.

“Good. I pray you have an uneventful day.” With that, Minerva left him, walking over to Hermione and offering a sheet as well. 

He took a step back, observing how she reacted in this bustling crowd of children. Severus had noticed that she was deeply invested in the children that she taught, doing her best to give everyone attention. She proved his point when at that moment, she knelt for a child that was obviously too young to go to Hogsmeade. 

When the young girl ran back into the building, he determined that she had noticed. Granger stood up, looking around from the sky to the children. Her face was open, bright, and hopeful. She looked full of life. He wished he could paint the expression. 

He was shaken from the strange line of thoughts as a chime went off in his breast pocket. Peeking at the miniature clock, it showed that Ronald was in Hogsmeade. A grumble stopped at his lips as he looked up and watched her tuck her face into her scarf.

There she was, happy, working on moving on with her life, and this gingered moron kept appearing to devastate her. He’d have to be twice as vigilant. Severus was not going to let a week’s work of noticeable progress be undone. There was also no point in trying to tell her to stay in the castle. She could not be in the castle forever, and having outings and acting as a part of the school and traditions could ground her. 

Her brown eyes met his, and she raised one eyebrow at him, walking forward. Now she was just cheeky for the sake of it.

“Did I miss you calling for me?” Hermione asked him as she closed the distance.

“No, but do come along, we’ve got the herd these cats there and back today. And you’ve still got shopping to do.” His tone was short and frustrated, but with the body aches and the added stress made it hard for him to contain it.

  
  
Severus tried reminding himself that she was not the target of his frustration and that he needed to focus on what he could control. 

He could control how he reacted and what he did to prevent the issue. He could guide and protect her while doing his duty to the school.

He stalked behind the group of loud and enthused students as they made their way to the shops. He was looking around, yelling at students doing what they ought not and taking points. While they were not on school grounds, he could still issue and take points. 

Severus knew that Weasley was there, somewhere, waiting. He was waiting for him to make a mistake, waiting for him to leave her vulnerable. He’d seen the way the man had looked. There was zero doubt that all common sense had left him long ago.

* * *

Severus was her shadow all day, projecting the airs that he was not one to tamper with today. The only time he was not at her side, or just a step behind her was when he could not ignore a student’s offense.

He’d taken fifty-five points from a group of mixed houses which were bullying another child. Minerva would not be pleased, but Severus had seen bullying as evil before, and he only held it more like one now.

The day dragged on, and as it got colder, his left shoulder ached more. He’d surmised that he must have slept on it wrong, as everything else had seemed to hurt less now. While he would have liked to settle into a booth at the Broomsticks and have a shot, he couldn’t risk it. 

“I’ll just be a minute.” She said, breaking his thoughts.

“Indeed.” He growled, his head hurting from the tension. He’d checked the clock several times. Weasley was still in Hogsmeade, but he’d yet to see him. He’d made sure they weren’t being followed, he’d circled back several times. 

As he was standing there, Severus saw someone in a cloak look at him and quickly turn a corner. He was sure he saw red hair. Narrowing his eyes, Severus debated if he would move, leaving her unprotected in the shop or investigate. He knew that the shop was the second safest place for her, so he moved to follow and determine who it was that he had seen.

It wasn’t a student; the cloak was brown.

The village was not that big. But some homes and buildings were off the main avenue, affording those that lived there some privacy. Severus moved through those side lanes, listening, investigating for some kind of track of Weasley.

When her otter Patronus arrived, he sighed, deciding he it was likely someone occupying one of the houses that had turned with nothing to do with him.

Storming back to the main street, he saw the same person on the opposite side of the lane. 

The red hair was unmistakable. 

He looked to see where she was now. In the small quill shop, there was a book section, and he could see her through the window. She’d be there for long enough for him to stop Weasley’s game. Severus was in a foul mood, and Weasley was shortening his temper considerably.

Marching around the building he’d just seen, he passed a few students. One glare, and they were moving back to where they needed to be. He walked with his wand in hand, checking every hiding space he could come across.

Nothing.

A few more minutes of looking and Severus decided to stop playing cat and mouse. If Weasley wanted to do something, he would need to come to him.

When he returned to the avenue, he could see her stepping into Honeydukes, likely picking up Maria’s order of ten boxes of licorice. 

When she came outside, he moved to stand at her side. “Finished your holiday shopping?” 

“I did, thank you. How much longer until we head back?”

His eyes were drawing over the street, looking for the brown cloak.

“Another hour, but we will start rounding students up to head back shortly,” He could see Weasley now, watching them from across the street.

He did not want the sight of her abuser to cause her distress, so he moved closer, blocking her view of the man.

Severus did not look at her as she spoke, keeping an eye on him and making sure Weasley did not take any other cheap shots. He felt her tense, and he realized his closeness was likely uncomfortable. He would rather her uncomfortable than in a panic attack.

Her voice was small as she whispered. “Severus, is he here?”

Ronald was smiling, swaying as he did. It was not a kind smile, but a smile he’d seen on mad men before. Severus turned and looked at her. He would not confirm her fears, but he would not let her be unprepared. 

“I believe so. You will take the main avenue back toward the castle. Act normal, usher the children back toward Hogwarts. If you hear something, do not come back.” Severus ordered her, daring her to disagree with him.

“Please don’t get yourself hurt on my account. I’m not worth it.” Her voice broke into the pitiful sound it had been before, and Severus’s face twitched in anger at what the mere idea that the man was there could do to her.

He was not going to let her go backward. She was worthy of being protected and cared for. No matter what the idiot across the way had done to her.

“I am the one who will decide that. Now go, Granger.” 

Twisting away from her, he marched right in the direction of Weasley, who backed up slowly, looking utterly unfazed that Severus was moving with the full intent to cause bodily harm to him. Weasley stopped backing up behind the Hog’s head.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Weasley?” Severus grit out, his hand holding his want in front of him.

“You know, I should have known you’d start buggering her the second you got the chance. Probably all you could think about when you were stuck in that bed, unable to move.” Ronald said, and Severus exhaled sharply, feeling his temper getting ready to explode.

“I advise you to return home, Mr. Weasley, before I lose the control I have.” Severus was genuinely trying to get the man to leave. There were too many chances for children in the crossfire.

“I can’t imagine you enjoy it. She’s a cold fish, a lie back and thinks of England bint. Or she cries. I bet that turns you on. Her sobbing as you drive her into the sheets.” Weasley said, making a vulgar motion with his hips.

Even at this distance, Severus could smell how drunk the man was. It was like he slept in a brewer’s cask.

“ _Stupefy_.” Severus snarled at the man, and Ron deflected the spell.

The drunkard sent a spell at him; his aim was surprisingly accurate. “ _Confundo_ ”

“ _Protego. Expelliarmus_.”

Weasley avoided the spell by a hair.

“You students had better hope your professor don’t catch ya dueling.” Aberforth was heard saying, and a door opened, blocking Severus’s view of Weasley. 

He sidestepped, and that was when he was hit with the spell that Ron had launched. “ _Immobulus_.”

Severus watched as Ron took off running as he raged against the spell he’d been locked into. He hoped that Aberforth had the sense to look out here, but instead, the door closed. The daft man had thought he’d scared students off, and now Hermione was at risk.

He felt anger rise in his chest and sense of helplessness. He hated it, hated it with his every fiber.

He was better than this; he was better than to be hit twice by the idiot because of the environment.

Even as he raged, he was stuck immobile in place, hoping that Hermione had the presence of mind to use the portkey or had made haste to the castle.

He was counting the minutes, wondering how long it would be before someone walked in this direction. As if on time, at five minutes, three of Prefects came tearing around the corner.

“Professor Snape, someone took Professor Granger down an alley against her will!” Mary Dutchkins yelled, and Severus wished he could glare at them

Cluergan cursed, walking around to look at him. “Shit, he’s under a spell, quick, Bentons.”

He heard both boys cast at the same time. “ _Finite Incantatem_.”

As soon as Severus could move, he turned on the students with a desperate expression. “Which way did they go?” 

“Behind Honeydukes. Hurry, she seemed scared.” 

Severus nodded, issuing orders even as he was moving in the direction of the sweet shop. “Gather the students, get everyone not already on the way to the castle inside somewhere.”

He could hear what he assumed was Weasley assaulting Granger again, listened to her yelp in pain. Severus moved with quickened steps.

He could see them in the faint light. She was on her hands and knees, trying to crawl away, and the beast had her by her hair. “I’m not done with you. You aren’t getting away from me this time. “

Severus was running, watching as the silver bracelet turned blue as it stopped him from taking her in a side along.

“What did you do?” Ron seemed to howl, and he was nearly there when she kicked back, landing the blow. 

Granger floundered forward on her hands and knees.

He stopped, his wand drawn, and grabbed her wrist, yanking her up to him. Her fist was brought back to hit him. He was ready for it; his eyes focused on the human-made monster before him. 

He pulled her close into his side, most of her body tucked behind his left side. 

It was hard for him to separate his emotions because Severus Snape was not just looking at Ronald Weasley, but seeing shades of his father blended in. He’d seen fights like this, heard his father say the same things. That came rushing to him, fueling the anger to inferno heights.

“Fucking great. What you got a tracer on her too? You put your mark right above mine?” Weasley growled, and Severus felt Hermione grasp him tight, her arms around his torso.

All the bottled up rage in him released at that moment. “ _Sectumsempra._ ” 

Severus did not miss, and the drunken man fell the ground, immediately feeling the effect of the spell. A massive slash appeared across his torso and clothes.

He was panting at this point, letting him bleed for a few moments.

Severus did not want the man’s death, not yet. So much had not fallen in place yet. 

“ _Homium stasis_.”

The spell suspended the bleeding, and Ronald Weasley was left there immobilized.

“If you ever touch her again, I will finish the job with my bare hands.” Severus threatened with a growl, the woman in question hyperventilating against his chest. 

He sent up a spark of red lights and then reached around her, grabbing the tiny flower. “Crookshanks.”

Just because he was prepared for the portkey did not mean that it did not aggravate his senses. He felt twisted and spun and then landed in the staff room. Minerva was there, instantly going into a panic expression at their state.

Before he got a chance to get a word in edgewise, Hermione vomited on him violently. She had him in a vice grip like if she let go of him, she was going to die.

Severus pushed aside the fact that he was covered in vomit down one side and twisted his aching shoulder back, pulling her around him to assess her. His focus was on making sure she was okay.

It was beyond evident that she was not.

Hermione was shaking like she’d been crucio’d, tremors seizing her and her knees giving out. He supported her weight, nothing that she was still so very light. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and her face was contorted in pain. 

_What had he done to her?_

The witch pushed away a moment later, vomiting. He did not let her hit the ground, kneeling and supporting her with his arm. Even though it hollered in pain, he did not let her go. Severus moved her hair away from her face. His wand was forgotten on the ground. He tried to understand what could have happened in such a short time. 

“Get me a calming draught, now!” Severus shouted at Minerva as the tremors continued, and she started sobbing. Her hands came up to her face and hair, her fingers twisting against her skin as the pained wails kept coming. He dropped to a sitting position, bringing her to his chest and cradling her against his shoulder.

“Granger.” He whispered, trying to rouse her from the hysteria. He got his wand in his hand, running curse checking spells over her.

Nothing came up.

Minerva shoved the vial into his hands, her eyes full of tears as he put his hand on her face.

He coaxed her gently, using her given name. “Hermione, I need you to try to swallow this. It will help, I swear.”

Severus was tender as he put the vial to her lips, pouring it slowly. Hermione sputtered, and he waited, letting her take it at her pace.

Once it was empty, he set it down, looking at the Headmistress.

“The students were all collected. Three of the prefect are walking them back now.” She said quietly, shaken.

“Weasley is in stasis behind Honeydukes. Send for someone to collect him. Potter would be best.” Severus managed to muster out as he held her to his shoulder.

He’d pulled her across his lap, supporting her back and the other holding her head.

“Is he dead?”

“No.” Severus hissed, both angry and pleased with his self-control.

The anger he felt was nothing compared to what Minerva had on her face. “Pity.”

“I’m of no use to anyone, especially Granger, if I am carted away to Azkaban.”

The Headmistress was thoughtful for a moment. She then nodded, turning to leave. “I will send for Poppy.”

“No. I will take care of her, myself.”

Worry was written all over Minerva’s face as she spoke. “Severus, you don’t have to.”

“Minerva, I am aware. I will take care of her in her quarters so that she wakes up in familiar surroundings. The last thing we need to do is traumatize her more.”

He could tell that she was asleep now, her body completely relaxed against him. Feelings of failure warped around in his mind. However, it was not the most powerful feeling. Severus felt protective; he was not letting her go even under threat of death until she was aware.

“I will talk to Medusa,” Minerva said, flicking her wand toward Severus. The vomit and blood from Granger were gone, and he felt gratitude for it.

It took him several minutes before he was able to get up and get his wand. Using his wand, he levitated Hermione, gently guiding her through the halls to the corridor where her quarters were.

Minerva must have told the serpent woman what had transpired, because she gave him no issue, opening the door without prompting. Minerva was inside, her hands twisted and her eyes wet as Severus laid her on the bed.

“Tell Horace that I need the box of potions that I asked him to keep in the supply closet,” Severus said, looking down at her. 

“I will floo to my rooms, grab a few things, and I will be back. Would you be willing to make Hermione more comfortable than thick robes.” Severus asked Minerva. He did not want to be the one to make any attempt to undress her. Both because he was afraid of what she would think and what he might find on her skin.

“Yes, go, I will send word.”

Severus was hasty, grabbing everything he could think of to aid her. He still stalled for a few moment to give Minvera a chance to change the girl or transmute her clothing. By the time he’d returned, she was in loose long-sleeved pajamas.

“I did a diagnostic. Concussion, bruises, broken nose.” Minerva whispered, giving him a worried and angered expression.

He looked at the woman lying asleep. “I can treat all of those.”

“Severus. While you were gone, she started talking. She started saying that she couldn’t be asleep when he got home, how it would be worse.”

Severus felt his jaw tighten.

“Minerva, we are going to make him pay for what he has done to Granger. But death is not a fair payment. By the time I am done with him-”

“Ahem” She angrily interrupted him.

“-we, by the time we are done with him, will have nothing and no one to blame but himself.”

“I know. And we will teach her how to be okay again. You’ve been doing a great job.” The Headmistress offered him praise.

He watched as she moved to Hermione, running her hand over her cheek as someone would do to their child. “If you need me, do not hesitate. Poppy is on standby if something goes awry.”

Severus nodded, holding the chair with a hard grip as he looked at her. “Understood.”

“And Severus, please also rest.”

“If I can.”

As Minerva opened the door, Horace Slughorn handed her a black wooden box. She gave it to Severus and then left him there. 

This began his vigil over her. Her cat had joined her in the bed, his paws over her chest as he watched her. Severus knew that Crookshanks was trying to help her just as much as he was.

Every hour he would give her just a small dose of pain relief to keep everything from waking her up. He had given her something for the concussion to heal quicker, as they had been something he suffered from quite a few times.

This black box was his stash of strong healing ointments, potions, and salves. He had potions designed to help with the after-effects of curses, normal fatigue, and many other painful situations. It had saved his life more times than he would ever admit.

It was hours into the morning now. Hermione still slept peacefully, and he was not going to do anything to change that. He’d moved the highback chair over to her bedside as he watched her. 

Once there was nothing more he could do for her than wait, he leaned his head on the bed. Sleep took him before he had a chance to stop it. 


	14. Unexpected Outcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

Something was wrong.

She didn’t know what it was, but something wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

Everything ached. Hermione felt like a rag that had been twisted and had been left out to dry.

But that wasn’t it.

No, it was there was someone else snoring right by her.

 _OH, GODS no…_ Hermione thought as everything flashed back to what she could remember. Ron had grabbed her in the village. He’d told her that he wasn’t letting her get away from him. Her head hit the stone wall, everything after that was blackness.

She froze, not even daring to breathe. If Ron had passed out, she might have a small chance to get away from him. 

Hermione moved her hands carefully, not jostling the bed. _Good, he didn’t tie me down…_

She repeated the same thing with her feet, testing her ankles. Her whole body was tense now and protesting the movement.

Hermione didn’t dare open her eyes. If he happened to wake up and see her eyes open, he would start over again. She had no idea where she was. It didn’t sound like the house, and it didn’t feel like it. 

_Where was her wand?_

Hermione focused, calling her wand to her. If she could get that and get far enough away, she could apparate. Her wand came into her fingers, and she tucked it under her arm, gingerly. It moved across the silver bracelet, touching the flower against her skin.

She’d forgotten about the portkey. She’d just have to get far away enough that Ron wasn’t touching her or had a chance to grab her at the last minute. Severus might have saved her life again.

Hermione wondered if Severus was looking for her. Who knew how long she’d been out. Had it been days, hours?

Eyes still closed, she began to lift herself, inch by inch and hurry away from the snoring man. She couldn’t smell alcohol on the air, but that just meant they were someplace he’d not been drinking at yet.

As soon as she got what she could deem a safe distance by sound, she curled her right hand, her fingers grasping the flower.

“Crookshanks.” She whispered, and she felt the pull of the portkey, thanking Merlin that Ron had not taken it off of her.

Hermione landed on her back in the staff room, and there was a gasp. She sat up, opening her eyes and seeing Neville coming to her side in concern.

“How long have I been gone?” She pleaded, grabbing his offered hand. 

Her head spun as she got to her feet, her wand still in her hand. Looking around, she was in the staff room at Hogwarts. She was safe. It had worked, she was safe. Hermione let out an amazed laugh.

“Hermione, I don’t know what you are talking about. You are supposed to be in your room resting. You had a nasty fall.” Neville’s eyes were concerned and confused.

“No, Ron had me, he’d taken me from Hogsmeade, I didn’t wake him. I had to get away before he woke up and started hitting-” She gasped, and at this, Neville’s face dropped in shock. Hermione had just realized that she’d never told Neville what was going on.

“Hermione, what are you talking about?” His voice was hardened like he was upset and realizing what she'd said.

“Oh gods, I- Please don’t ask. I shouldn’t have said anything. Where is Severus?” Panic was raising her throat, and she took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself.

Neville closed the distance, touching her face. “Hermione, what happened between you and Ron? Did he do this to you?”

Hermione flinched away from his touch. She bit her lip as her eyes watered. Hermione was trying so hard to keep it together. Everything hurt, her head hurt, and she didn’t know what to say. It didn’t feel like she could say anything. And his eyes were there, looking for some kind of understanding. 

Finally, she nodded, and Neville spun around angrily, moving to slam his hand on the table. Hermione jumped back, trying to hold herself steady amid the headache that was getting worse.

“I am such an idiot.” He groaned before looking back at her. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I told him you were going to be there. He said that he just wanted to talk to you to reconcile. Why didn’t you tell anyone.”

It was hard for her to grasp what he was saying initially, but it dawned on her. Ron had only known that it was a Hogsmeade weekend because Neville had told him. Hermione looked at him with horror in her eyes. 

“I- I- I didn’t know how. Why would you tell Ron where I was going to be?” She cried, her head tilted as hurt and betrayal colored her voice.

“He said that he would do anything to get you back. Ron told me that he was still mad about you and that he wanted a second chance. I didn’t think- Hermione- I didn’t know.” Neville offered, trying to move toward her to comfort her. 

Hermione moved out of his reach. “But you knew I was trying to stay away from him. Why didn’t you tell me you’d talked to him? He could have killed me, Neville.” Hermione was crying now, her arms shaking.

“Do you really think I would have told him if I knew he was going to hit you.” Neville pleaded.

At that moment, the door flew open, a winded Severus pushing it open. “Granger, why did you use the portkey from your room.”

“What? I- No, Ron was there, he was snoring, I had to get away before he woke up.”

“That was me, you fool. You shouldn’t be up; you still have a concussion.”

“Severus, is what she saying true, or is it because of the concussion?”

Severus looked between her and Neville.

“That all depends on what she said, Professor Longbottom.”

“Neville told Ron I was going to be in Hogsmeade.” Hermione sobbed, and before she could think about her actions, she was rushing to Severus, and she grabbed him, crying into his shoulder.

She felt him stiffen. Then it dawned on her to what she’d just done and tried to step back.

An arm came around her, holding her there firmly, and a cupped hand pressed itself against her shoulder. 

“Mr. Longbottom, you told Mr. Weasley where Miss Granger was going to be, even though she was obviously avoiding him.” Hermione heard him growl through his coat.

“He was begging me for help to save his marriage. He wanted a second chance, said I was his only hope. I didn’t know.”

“And yet you lacked the common sense to say something to her.”

“He said he wanted it to be a surprise, said something about trying to win her back.”

“You are an idiot, and your lack of forth thought is infuriating.” She could feel the vibration of the snarl against her cheek.

Neville yelled, and Hermione shook. “I didn’t know!”

“Obviously. Miss Granger, you be back in bed, your concussion will not heal if you aggravate it with portkey use.” He said, his voice quieter.

Her headache thanked him. Hermione was in no position to argue with him as her skull started feeling like it was a few sizes too small.

“Are you able to walk on your own volition.” He asked her, and she pulled back. His arm lowered, and she stepped back fully.

“Yes, Sorry about your space, don’t know what came over me, sorry.” 

“Granger, you have a concussion, you just suffered a traumatizing experience, and you have been betrayed by one of your close friends. It is acceptable.” 

Hermione watched as Severus glared at Neville, who was looking chastised. “We will speak about this later, Mr. Longbottom.” 

She’d let him lead her back to her rooms, and she’d gotten back into her bed. As she thought about it, she should have realized that she was here in the first place. She felt stupid and betrayed and hurt. She covered her eyes with her arm, blocking out the light as he dosed out a potion. 

“Pain potion.” 

She felt the vial at her lips, and she drank it, wishing for the sweet relief of it.

“Thank you.” She whispered, feeling herself relax.

“You are welcome. Rest, I will be here to make sure you don’t miss a dose.” Hermione heard him say, and it made her think back.

He’d just started being able to use his voice. Hermione had been scared that they’d not be able to save it, but she’d found a book on restoring them in the restricted section. The madness about sea witches was a bit off, but it had inspired her to seek out the help of the Mermaids. Their magic had its own variety, and they’d helped her create a poultice that would restore his voice. 

In exchange, she promised to make sure that she pushed for laws that protected their sea kin from the devastation of Muggle fishing. It was something she saw as a fair trade. She’d been laughed at in the board room, but she did not relent. It was hard to stop her when she had her mind to something.

And fortunately, their poultice had worked. After massaging it into Severus's throat for two weeks, he was able to tell her to shut up. She found herself so happy at hearing the words that she couldn’t do anything but smile. He was even more irritated that she didn’t seem upset.

After a week of him being able to speak, he’d gotten nicer about it. After all, she’d taken over his care nearly completely. While the castle was being rebuilt around them, she was there around the clock. Hermione didn’t admit it, but she didn’t trust anyone else, except maybe Minerva, to be his caregiver. Too many people had grudges, and not everyone knew what he’d done for them. 

But she did.

Harry had told her the instant she got to him after Voldemort fell. It was what had made her go back, and fortunately, she’d had enough potions in her bag to keep him alive until she could get help.

The first time he said thank you was a moment of pride for her. Severus was not an easy man to care for, once he could protest. Everything she was doing was wrong at first, according to him. But Hermione took it in stride. He had every right to be mad at the world, and since the world wasn’t here, she’d take it for them.

But when the pain had him jerking and gasping from the aftershocks of curse damage and being near death, she never hesitated to help him, hold his hand and give him something for the pain if it was close to time.

Once he’d been sweat-drenched, his head lolling to the side after she’d given him his pain potion, and she’d heard him utter the barest whisper.

“Thank you.”

She’d smiled then to him and pulled the chair up again, picking up her book.

“Rest, I’ll be here in case you have another attack.”

At that moment, he looked so human that she felt something in her chest warm up. That was the man who was really lived under the thick armor. Someone unaccustomed to someone caring for them without needing anything from him. Hermione had held his hand till he fell asleep, even though he acted like he hated it, she knew it helped him. 

Everyone deserved to be comforted, and Hermione was the one there to give it to him.

“Ironic.” Hermione mused aloud, turning to look at him sitting in the chair watching her.

“Oh?” He said, raising an eyebrow at her.

She tried nodding it, but it was a poor judgment call as her brains sloshed around in her skull. At least the tightness was gone.

“Trade this for the hospital wing and go back seven years, and we were in different places. Ironic that it is now you, caring for me.”

“I’d rather not think back to that time.” He whispered quietly, and she instantly felt like a horrid person.

“Severus, I wasn’t trying to bring that all up. I just, it made me think of it.”

“Understandable.”

There was a long pause of silence, and Hermione felt herself almost go to sleep.

“Hermione.” There was hesitance in his voice. 

Turning her head, she could see him, his chin was in his hand, his leg crossed over the other. “Hmmm?”

“Don’t you think it would be prudent, and perhaps helpful, if you told me what has transpired between you and Mr. Weasley. I’ve seen enough to draw my own conclusions, but I would prefer the truth.” He said quietly, his eyes soften, and Hermione could see that he was trying to be delicate.

It didn’t stop the weight on her chest and the quickening of her pulse. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell Severus; in fact, she had to agree with him. If he’d not turned it on her by not, it was unlikely that he would. Severus was proving to be not what she thought he was at all. 

Between the pain potion, the headache, and the residual fear, her mind was revolting against the idea.

“I don’t think I can right now.” She whispered, sore eyes protesting more tears.

He seemed crestfallen and turned away for a moment as an unreadable expression crossed his face. “I understand.” 

Hermione had to explain herself. “I will. I promise. But I can’t right now.”

He seemed to accept this and returned his gaze to her. “Can you answer another question?”

“Maybe, my head is starting to swim.”

He acknowledged her state with an agreeing nod.“It’s the potion. Why when you first saw him, didn’t you use the portkey I gave you?”

“The students. He would have hurt them. I couldn’t leave them with him. And then he had a hold of me, and I didn’t want to drag him along.” She breathed, closing her eyes as she saw those eyes as he threatened what he would do if she didn’t send them ahead of her. Her face winced as she thought about what she could remember.

“I see. Don’t think about it anymore, rest. I don’t want to have to give you another calming draught unless necessary.”

Hermione looked up at him, watching as he grabbed a book and started reading, flipping back and forth between pages. It was some sort of psychology book, but it didn’t surprise him, he was well versed in so many topics.

“Severus.” 

“Yes?” His eyes did not leave the page.

“You are a good man,” Hermione whispered in earnest.

He snorted, not even looking up at her. “Hardly.”

She smiled as she laid back on the pillow, closing her eyes. She felt Crookshanks jump up on to the bed and put his paws across her chest, purring. Mixed with the pain relief and the quiet shuffling of pages, Hermione gave into the drawing escape of sleep.

* * *

  
When she woke up, there was light streaming in through the window. It didn’t hurt, which she decided was a positive start.

“Shall I have your elf bring you coffee, or do you suspect you will want to sleep?” Severus asked her, leaning back into the chair, reading the Daily Prophet. 

She yawned and sat up, Hermione desperately needed to use the bathroom. “Coffee sounds like heaven. I’ll be back.”

“Mind your balance.” He offered before calling for the house-elf. 

Hermione paid him no mind, attending to the critical matter at hand. Hermione noticed she was not in the clothes she had been in when she was at Hogsmeade.

 _Had Severus undressed her? Surely she would have woken up_. Dread slipped into her mind. 

Hermione had actively not looked at her body because of what she saw. She’d not looked in a mirror on purpose in years. She actively ignored them. 

But it was not her nakedness in front of him now that bothered her the most. It was that she’d not known. She’d been so out of it that his hands on her hadn’t woken her.

She shook it from her mind. Hermione was mad to think he’d dress her. It was likely something else altogether. The only way she would be sure is if she asked him.

“Severus, can I ask you to tell me the truth about something?”

He looked at her, perplexity written across his face as his brows met in the middle. “I will unless I cannot.”

That was satisfactory; after all, some oaths he had likely transcended death. 

“Did you dress me?” Her voice was wavering, even as she tried to quell the nerves.

“I did not. Minerva transfigured your clothing for you. I would not have so grossly violated your person unless there was a life or death need.” His voice was sure, even, and she was sure he was telling her the truth.

“I appreciate that.”

He made a noise and went back to the paper. 

Hermione found her coffee in its usual place, and it smelt amazing. Pacing herself, she savored it, letting the warmth spread through her. Hermione hummed, feeling much better than she had expected she would. Sitting on the bed with her coffee, she watched him.

“Anything of interest. Or does Skeeter still think I am a strumpet.”

He made a bemused sound before he spoke. “Rita Skeeter has been fired from the Prophet.”

“What? When?”

“On Monday. According to the paper, it was due to pressure from the public for more authenticity. And due to concerns over her words, bringing legal action against the paper.”

 _Monday? That didn’t make sense; she’d read the paper Monday, and Skeeter was still publishing her trash._

“Severus, what day is it?” Hermione expected him to say Sunday, as they had gone to Hogsmeade on Saturday.

“Wednesday. I’ve been giving you sleeping aid in your pain potions to help your concussion. The swelling is all gone at this point.” Severus explained casually, flipping to the next page.

_Four days, she’d been sleeping for four days. What had she missed? Had he been here, watching her for four days?_

“Queenie brought you something to eat, you’ve been on supplementals this whole time, but I know it is not the same as real food.” He broke through her thoughts.

Hermione was baffled at his statements, but he was right when she thought she was hungry.

At the desk, she saw that there was a platter there with a rounded lid. She walked over to it and opened it up, grinning as she saw a pile of waffles.

“Mrs. Potter advised me that your preferred breakfast was that. She will be here shortly.”

“I- thank you. Have you been here the whole time? What about your classes?” Hermione took a seat, starting to cut up her food. Another cup of coffee was at her desk as well. She took a bite as she listened to him.

“Mr. Potter and Mrs. Potter have been taking shifts with me. My class got the ‘treat’ of a guest professor yesterday, as Potter taught them. Minerva was beyond tickled about it.” He answered her, flipping to another page.

The chuckle that escaped her was unpreventable. She was sure that Minerva was amused. He gave her a look that she supposed was meant to mean he was insulted, but it had no weight.

Hermione was suddenly overcome with the casual domesticity of the situation. She wondered if this is what how he would have been if he’d ever had the chance to have that kind of life. Severus was sitting in a chair reading a paper, a beautiful woman at the table eating breakfast, and giving him just enough grief to amuse him, but not enough to rouse his irritation as they greeted the morning. He would be a great husband for someone if he’d ever got the chance.

She found herself lost in the imaginary, wondering what he would have been like to this beautiful woman. Even with his anger issues, he seemed so insulted by the idea of what she’d suffered at Ron’s hands that he’d never be the type to hit. She’d have to be smart, though, because Hermione could see that he’d get into a mood and want to debate and need someone who would be able to challenge him, matching him wit for wit. 

But he had his baggage too, and whoever loved him would have to have kindness in them, enough to protect and nurture the side that he hides under his woolen armor. 

She chuckled to herself, eating still as she imagined up this amazing woman who deserved this kind of man. He’d seen too much, given too much to have someone that wasn’t madly in love with everything about him, flaws and all. It would have to be someone brave enough to stand up to him when he was wrong. Severus would never love someone who hero-worshiped him. They’d have to be someone who didn’t care about his Order of Merlin or his Death Eater days. Someone who would just want to be with him for him. 

He was honorable, loyal, pragmatic, intelligent, funny in a sarcastic way, and had a way of making someone feel safe. 

Hermione looked at him now, focusing out of the daydream. She examined his features as he read, watching his black eyes move quickly over the page. 

This woman would have to not be vain. Severus was not a pretty man, but it was charming; in its own way. His exterior was as much a shield to protect the man he hid from the world as his clothing was. His eyes, however, were expressive, she’d seen what Severus could do with a single look. Hermione imagined that full of desire; he would make this woman melt. He deserved someone who wasn’t afraid of the power of his voice either, who could recognize it as a tool he had honed and sharpened to serve him.

That woman would have to be perfect.

_Merlin, I wish I was her…_ Hermione thought and stopped herself, her shoulders going up. She felt a tumble in the pit of her stomach and realized what she’d just been doing.

“Shit.” She said aloud before even remembering he was listening.

He lowered the paper, a concerned and alert expression on his face. “Something wrong? Granger, why are you, flushed?”

“Ah, I’m fine. Lost in thought.” Hermione offered, looking away from him.

He started to ask her something, but as if she was sent by divine intervention, Gin walked through the fire.

“Oh, thank Merlin, you are awake. Sorry, I’m late Professor, Lily refused to let Harry dress her. Said he can’t do her hair right.”

“It is nothing. I imagine I have to recover my classroom from your husband anyway, so a few moments will not add to the destruction.” Severus offered, standing and walking toward the desk.

“Granger, if you feel ill, do not conceal it. Mrs. Potter has already been advised of what to do in my absence. I shall be back around lunchtime.” Hermione watched him turn to Gin and give her a curt and polite nod. ”Mrs. Potter.”

With that, he left, and Hermione looked at Gin, still reeling from where her mind had gone.

“I know you’ve got a million questions. Eat, and I will fill you in.” Ginny said, picking up Crookshanks and putting him in her lap.

Hermione complied. As soon as she was done, she was in the chair opposite Gin, which Severus had been in earlier. It was still slightly warm, and Hermione shut down any inkling that her imagination could runoff.   
Honestly, what was wrong with her, this was Snape, Severus Snape, who had said what he did all those years ago. Whatever was wrong with her, she chalked up to a concussion leftover.

Ginny let her gather herself and then began to explain what had occurred while she was healing. 

Ron had been charged and was sitting in the security holding at the Ministry. His mother had pleaded for him to not go to Azkaban under this all being some kind of misunderstanding.

Harry had sent a team of Aurors to get Ron, wanting not to have it thought that he was compromised in the situation because of his former friendship with him. Harry had even asked Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, to be the one to come to Severus and take his statement and to see Hermione and her injuries himself. It had been all over the Prophet.

Rita Skeeter had posted a horrid gossip piece that Severus was the attacker and that Ron had tried to save Hermione but failed. She called Severus every name in the book that they could print. Said this was all some cover-up for Severus to attain fame by bewitching Hermione. On Monday, they had canned Rita Skeeter. She’d been ousted from the publication formally and sent packing. Her publisher called her a black stain on the Prophet’s reputation and that she was a liability.

Hermione was overwhelmed with everything she heard. _How had this happened in just a few days?_

But Ginny wasn’t finished explaining yet.

Draco Malfoy had come to own all of Ron’s debts and put him into collections for non-payment. He’d expressly excluded any assets that Hermione’s name was on, going after Ron’s share in the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and any other individual assets. 

Because of this, it was published on Tuesday that Ron had been betting on sporting events and had accepted bribes to ensure individual teams had issues. Since he worked in the Department of Games and Sports, this was a scandal. He was fired, and his department was doing an internal investigation on whether they would bring criminal charges against him.

It was nearly impossible for her to fathom. To her, it seemed like overnight her soon to be ex-husband had lost everything.

“You cannot be serious,” Hermione said, and Ginny smiled.

“I’ve not even gotten to the part I find the strangest.”

Ginny then went on to tell her about what had happened at the school. Severus had floo’d both of them as soon as she’d gone to sleep the second time, and they took turns watching her. Harry had taken a leave of absence, citing his responsibility to Hermione’s health and for his department to remain objective. Ginny was in off-season anyways, so they juggled the kids, and George and Angelina had come to babysit a few times because Severus had reached out to him too.

Even though they were taking shifts, Severus had been by there every moment he could. He was constantly checking her over and adjusting her potions. Also, when Minerva had ordered him to sleep, he’d been back four hours later, stating that it was more than enough for him. 

He’d torn Neville a new arsehole the size of Big Ben, and then when the yelling was over, they’d had a civil conversation. Severus had even apologized to Neville for his bullying him as a student in the past. Gin couldn’t believe it, but Neville had told her it himself. 

“Are you sure I’m not still dreaming?”

“Not unless I am too.” Ginny offered, touching her hand.

Hermione was processing everything she’d been told. Was this the universe telling her she’d made the right choice in leaving. _Was there some kind of guardian angel that had decided to show up and make things right?_

Letting all the air out of her lungs, she inhaled deeply. The feeling of hope-filled her, firm hold of security, and the foreign sensation of safety. Not the kind of protection from hiding behind something, but the impression that she didn’t have to hide.

“I’m not really supposed to tell you this, but if I don’t, it will drive me mad.” Gin said quietly, leaning forward.

Hermione leaned into her, wondering what the secret was. “What else is there, Ginny?”

Ginny gave her a huge smile and chuckled. “Severus was holding your hand while you were sleeping. He said it was him returning a favor. It was the oddest thing I’ve ever seen. Add that to the fact that he had to have a hand in all this shit rolling downhill on to Ron, and it just doesn’t make any sense.”

That flutter of warmth tumbled around in her again. The same one that had happened when she was daydreaming inappropriately earlier.

Ginny was grinning ear to ear, and Hermione knew that grin. It was the someone fancies you smile that she’d fixed Hermione with when Viktor Krum was here. Hermione could not deal with this now. It was bad enough that she was coping with moving on from her husband. She did not need her sister in law toying with the idea that Snape would have any interest in her at all.

Hermione closed her eyes, sighing. “Ginny, please don’t get any wild ideas. If I were the last witch and he the last wizard, even then, he would not be that desperate.”

“I wasn’t going there, but now you have my interest,” Ginny said, smirking, tilting her head. “You can’t know that for a fact.”

“Oh, I do, he told me himself.” Hermione sat back in her chair, pinching her nose, and looking at the ceiling.

“When!”

“Seven years ago.”


	15. Knight checks Queen; Rook takes Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He snapped his head up from a dead slumber as she disappeared from the bed.

 _What the hell had just happened…_ He thought, standing and looking for a threat.

Looking around, he found nothing. Using a point me while sensing into the castle, he could feel she was in the castle, in the staff room.

Had she had a nightmare, he’d not even felt her move. If she was sleepwalking, she could hurt someone or be hurt.

Severus turned, and the door gave him no issue opening, letting him tear through the castle in the middle of the night. Even though his body ached from sleeping in the odd angle, he did not stop, taking the stairs as fast as he could safely allow himself. His lungs were not okay with him going from rest to speed without any preamble.

As he neared the door, he could hear her crying and someone else speaking to her. Through the thick door, that was all he could manage to make out. 

Panting, he stopped at the door, pushing it open with urgency. “Granger, why did you use the portkey from your room.”

Hermione was standing there in her nightclothes, her arms wrapped around herself tightly and looking like she was withdrawing from Neville. _Did she have a panic attack?_

The notion dismissed away as she looked at him with confusion and panic in her face.

“What? I- No, Ron was there, he was snoring, I had to get away before he woke up.” She cried, and it suddenly made sense to him.

He’d fallen asleep, his head on the bed near her shoulder. If he’d been snoring, there was nothing to tell her that she was safe. 

That also meant that he thought she was an idiot for not checking. “That was me, you fool. You shouldn’t be up; you still have a concussion.”

Professor Longbottom turned to look at him, his face red and cheeks puffed out. “Severus, is what she saying true, or is it because of the concussion?”

He looked between her, who looked like she was afraid and Longbottom, who looked angry. _What had happened in the short time between her getting here and his arrival._

He leveled him with a hard look, wondering if the man had done something to hurt Hermione. He and Ron were friends, who was to say that all of their mutual friends were safe for her to be around.

“That all depends on what she said, Professor Longbottom.”

“Neville told Ron I was going to be in Hogsmeade.” Hermione sobbed. 

Severus glared at the man, moving to step forward when she ran to him, crushing her face into his coat. For a second, he was lost to what to do, his eyes darting from her hair to Neville. The man looked just as shocked as he felt.

_She needs a friend who she feels safe with…_ He reminded himself, taking a breath.

He heard her make a startling noise and start to draw away from him. Severus put his arm around her shoulder, affirming to her that this contact was not unwelcome. Hermione seemed to press her face back into him, and Severus was satisfied that she felt comforted.

Now was time to deal with Longbottom. He always knew he could be an idiot, but to support this kind of behavior. _What would his wife say? Hannah was not the sort of woman to tolerate that; she ran a pub for Merlin’s sake._

“Mr. Longbottom, you told Mr. Weasley where Miss Granger was going to be, even though she was obviously avoiding him.” He growled, fixing him with a glare that could set things on fire if he willed it. 

Longbottom’s face paled .“He was begging me for help to save his marriage. He wanted a second chance, said I was his only hope. I didn’t know.” He started blubbering. Severus was angry at his idiocy.

“And yet you lacked the common sense to say something to her.” He barked. He wanted to yell and scream and maybe even hex the young man, but with Hermione this close to him, he wouldn’t.

Neville was holding his hands up in surrender, taking a step back from his anger.“He said he wanted it to be a surprise, said something about trying to win her back.”

“You are an idiot, and your lack of forth thought is infuriating.” 

“I didn’t know!” Neville yelled back, and Severus tightened his arm when she jerked in his arm. 

This would not be a good conversation to continue with her here. 

“Obviously.”

He needed to get her back in bed, make sure she’d not done any more damage, and for her to be comfortable. With her tucked against him this way, he felt very protective of her, more so than he had in the village. There she was happy and blissfully unaware of the danger, here she was vibrating with it.

  
He turned his face, speaking softly to her. “Miss Granger, you should be back in bed, your concussion will not heal if you aggravate it with portkey use. Are you able to walk on your own volition?”

She was leaning heavily on him, and it had to be his left side, but he would carry her if he had to get her back into her bed and safe. He lowered his arm to see if she was standing on her own feet, and she took it as a gesture that it was time to move away.

Severus felt a strange emptiness when she stepped back. It disturbed him, and he would be adding this to the list of things he needs to remark in his journaling when he got to it at this point. 

“Yes, Sorry about your space, don’t know what came over me, sorry.” 

There was apologizing again. Severus was going to break her from saying sorry for every perceived offense if it was his death.

“Granger, you have a concussion, you just suffered a traumatizing experience, and you have been betrayed by one of your close friends. It is acceptable.” He affirmed softly, doing his best to temper his anger with the man in the room with his concern for her well-being.

He watched as Hermione looked at Neville and then back at him.

Severus narrowed his eyes, putting his hand on her shoulder. “We will speak about this later, Mr. Longbottom.”

  
They’d walked in silence because he was angry still and because he was deeply bothered that he felt something at her withdrawal from his side. Was it his protectiveness making him feel like if she wasn’t close, he couldn’t protect her? It didn’t feel like it, but then again, he did not defend her because someone told him to, but because he wanted to.

He’d helped her to bed, running his wand over her to ensure there was no additional damage. The concussion was a little more advanced, but not the worse he’s ever seen. He could tell she had a headache by how she covered her eyes from the light. He checked the tempus charm and noticed that she could take something for the pain. He thought it over for a minute and decided he would give her something else. I didn’t want to risk another sleep hazed portkey incident.  
  
Carefully blending the two potions, Severus made her a sleeping pain potion. If you mixed dreamless sleep with pain in equal parts, it could create a restorative sleep, which is what she needed.

He shook his head as he smelt the concoction. He’d not smelt it in years, as it was something rarely needed on campus. But it was something he knew the smell of well since the witch he was about to give it to had kept him alive on it for months.

Severus remembered how she would touch his chin when he was wincing in pain to let him know she was there and then put the vial to his lips. He had little choice back then, either drink or stay in pain. His body was devastated by Nagini’s venom, and it had aggravated curse damage that he had incurred over two wars. Crucio could have lingering effects years later and could apparently, be antagonized to rear their head.

Hermione was the driving force behind his survival. St. Mungo’s experts gave him a ten percent chance of surviving. Minerva had told him in one of the many chats that Hermione had smiled at them and said that was more than enough of one. He had to grant her one thing; she was tenacious. In the six months, while he was unconscious under this powerful potion, she’d learned more than half of the masters of the art did. 

And she’d been so unorthodox. Who else but a muggle-born witch would read a magical telling of the little mermaid and think to ask the creatures if they had a cure for damaged voices. It was madness, but it was genius. And above everything else, it worked. He was living proof. When he’d come too, the attendant that the Ministry had demanded be there had quickly told him that he would never talk again. Granger had made sure he had to eat crow when Severus kindly told him to get the fuck out of his room.

Even then, she gave him these blasted potions, having him sleep for weeks to get him through horrid episodes. He’d wake up with a start, and she would squeeze his hand wordlessly, affirming that he was not alone and safe. He hated it then, but over the years, understood what she was doing. If he’d not had her there, he’d likely gone into a rage and damaged himself more. Not that he didn’t have enough rampages while being aware.

How she ever dealt with him, he was uncertain. 

But she was lying there, a much better patient than he had been.

Severus tapped her chin, speaking softly for her head’s sake. “Pain potion.”

Pressing it to her lips, she drank it, and he felt a stirring of warmth that was almost like pride that she didn’t even look to check it, just willing accepting and trusting what he was offering her. He didn’t know why he felt it, but he did.

“Thank you.” She whispered, and he turned from her, setting the vial down and taking up his post in the chair. He was going to sit here, come hell or high water until she wasn’t at risk of more damage from that concussion.

“You are welcome. Rest, I will be here to make sure you don’t miss a dose.” He offered, opening up his book.

This time he was reading on forgiveness and how to both ask for it and to give it. In his own adventure of trauma relief, he discovered that he held on to a lot of anger about things that he had the power to let go of. It wasn’t an easy concept, and Severus was by no means still convinced that it would work, but this was literature that went into depth on it. 

Severus found that he genuinely enjoyed learning the more technical aspect of the psyche and emotions. He’d always had a trained knowledge of how to anticipate emotions and moods from his childhood, but that didn’t mean he actually understood them. This had opened a well of knowledge that he hadn’t even thought to drink from.

“Ironic.” 

Her word broke him from his reading, and he looked at her with curiosity. “Oh?”

Hermione moved and then winced, and he held back the insult that instinctively came to his lips. He was curious as to what she’d seen as ironic about this situation at all.

“Trade this for the hospital wing and go back seven years, and we were in different places. Ironic that it is now you, caring for me.”

His lips drew into a tight line. As much as he was accepting of reflecting on that time, he had no desire to hash up the things that came with talking to Hermione about it. Severus wasn’t ready to hear some things he suspected, and talking about his recovery would only lead to that.

“I’d rather not think back to that time.” He barely managed to whisper, rolling his shoulder and focusing on that pain to stem the unease that had roused in him.

Her voice sounded worried and apologetic as she spoke. “Severus, I wasn’t trying to bring that all up. I just, it made me think of it.”

At least he knew now that she had no desire to stir the pot either. “Understandable.”

Unfortunately, even though they were not speaking about it, his mind was drawn to that place even as he wished it wasn't. He tucked his book to the side, leaning on his hand as he looked at her, wondering how much Hermione remembered of that time.

He’d been so angry. Every memory was washed with the rage he felt. He’d been promised the end of all his pains in the sweet nonexistence of death. He’d not done anything to become a ghost, and he’d taken precautions against becoming an inferi.

To wake up six months later, an invalid with an idiot telling him that he would never walk or talk again had been akin to hell. He was confident at first; it was hell. Why else would Hermione blasted Granger had swooped in at the last minute like a comic book heroine and save him if not so that he gets punished.

And then she was charm and grace and unimaginable patience, and he hated it. Hated how she was slaving away at saving him like he wanted it, or worse like he deserved it. He didn’t deserve to be alive, he didn’t deserve any of it, but Hermione gave it to him freely. He kept waiting for the punchline, the reason he was still needed. 

“You need your rest, please lie down.” Her hands were on his shoulders, and he was too weak to resist her. 

Even then, his glares did nothing to her; she would just smile. “Will you just tell me what you and Potter want with me so that I may do it and die in peace.”

“Nothing, as I have said every time you’ve asked Professor, we don’t want anything from you, and you aren’t dying on my watch.” Her voice was calm, every time he scolded her, every time he outraged, she bore it with a sense of dignity. She would just let it roll off her back and continue her work.

“You are a fool. Why are you here, wasting your celebration and time to try to keep me, the most hated wizard in the world, alive.” He screamed, his voice sore and hoarse, but he didn’t care.

“Perhaps, I have personal reasons. Or perhaps, you earned a second chance, a chance to do everything on your terms.” She’d smiled at him then, and he wanted to throw something at her, anything to get the smile off her face. 

He’d been so angry, and she wasn’t even the reason. He was mad at the world, which had turned it’s back on him, and she was the only one always there, the one who refused to look away when everyone else had given up on him.

How had his stalwart guardian, his stubborn and take none of his shit pseudo-medi-witch, get to the point where she let a man that didn’t even deserve her treat her as he had? 

And there was that niggling reminder that Minerva had said it was worse than he could imagine. He still didn’t know everything; he barely knew enough to speculate. Severus was flying blind against something that had been brewing for years. He’d never actually asked her to tell him, perhaps, she thought he didn’t want to know.

“Hermione.” He asked tentatively, wondering if she had fallen asleep yet.

She cracked her eyes and turned to face him. “Hmmm?”

He leaned forward, resting his hand on his chin. He would have to approach this with some finesse, as she could easily have a panic attack.

“Don’t you think it would be prudent, and perhaps helpful, if you told me what has transpired between you and Mr. Weasley. I’ve seen enough to draw my own conclusions, but I would prefer the truth.” 

He watched as dark honey eyes looked around in a touch of panic. Severus could see she was thinking it over.

After a few long seconds, she answered him in a soft whisper.”I don’t think I can right now.” 

_Of course… Hermione doesn’t trust me, I forgot… Minerva had said she’d been sure that I would have turned this against her… Even after everything…_ He thought mournfully, looking away from her.

“I understand.” He breathed, hating that he did understand why she wouldn’t tell him. 

Her quick reply pulled him from the negative emotions clouding his mind. “I will. I promise. But I can’t right now.”

_Right now… It could be that Hermione is aware that she is too emotionally vulnerable… I have to have patience with her, recovery and admission has to come on her time…_ He reminded himself, pulling on his research to quell the brewing insecurity.

That did lead him to want for another answer, something that had been bothering him since he’d heard she’d been taken.“Can you answer another question?”

Hermione’s eyes were heavy, and she looked exhausted. “Maybe, my head is starting to swim.”

“It’s the potion. Why when you first saw him, didn’t you use the portkey I gave you?”

Even with her in a drowsy state, he was desperate for the answer. It made no sense that she had a mode of escape and did not use it.

“The students. He would have hurt them. I couldn’t leave them with him. And then he had a hold of me, and I didn’t want to drag him along.” Her reply to him all made sense.

Weasley had waited until she was surrounded by students and with Severus out of the way for one reason. To put guilt on Hermione and make her feel like if she didn’t go with him, she couldn’t protect the students.

Her greatest strength was also her greatest weakness; it seemed.

Severus noticed that her face was contorted as she thought, and he didn’t want her to stress herself out once more. “I see. Don’t think about it anymore, rest. I don’t want to have to give you another calming draught unless necessary.”

He leaned back in the, opening his book, hoping she would fall asleep with him there. He could see her over the top of the book, looking at him, but he paid her no mind.

  
  
“Severus.” Her voice was soft and sleepy. He would even think that others would call it cute. Cute, however, was not a word in his vocabulary.

He didn’t look at her directly, watching her with his peripheral vision. “Yes?” 

“You are a good man,”

The way her voice was so honest and sure she believed what she was saying genuinely made him uncomfortable.

Severus had to snort. That was something he had never believed, no matter how much anyone told him or tried to convince him. “Hardly.”

She made a soft sound that was almost a laugh, and she rolled over. Her great beastly cat had sensed that she was sleeping as well and snuggled up to her. 

In moments, she was softly snoring. Severus looked at her sleeping there for a few minutes, watching how her body rose and fell with each breath. 

_Ronald Weasley was an idiot. Although, Severus might have been a bigger one than even him._

Shaking his head, he got up, tucking the book away. Now that she would be asleep and therefore not culpable, there was a lot to be done.

* * *

“Potter, I don’t care what you think. You said you wanted in; this is what you are expected to do.”

“Severus, perhaps you could illuminate why instead of just telling me what to do.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. They were arguing under a muffliato not to wake up Hermione, who had been asleep for most of the day. Severus had offered to personally skin anyone who did more than whisper while she was sleeping.

“If you take time away from your job, you can spend it with her, allowing me to teach my classes. And since your department is the department handling the investigation, if you are off the job, you cannot have this case thrown out because you are his friend.”

“I was. I am no longer.” Harry said, his green eyes angry as he crossed his arms.

“Yes, how commendable; however, the public isn’t going to buy it. Take it from someone who gets slandered every time Skeeter gets a wild hair.” Severus explained, shaking his head.

“I thought Skeeter’s days are numbered?”

“Yes, today she had an anonymous source provide her with information that will make her write the last article of her career.”

“Does this anonymous individual happen to be you?”

“Merlin, no, I was here the whole time,” Severus said with a sly smile.

“Alright, let me get this right. You want me to take a vacation, while my best friend is in a potion induced coma and my ex-best friend is being investigated for putting her in the state to need it, so I can monitor her and let you teach your classes.” Harry Potter explained slowly, obviously mulling the details over in his mind,

“Yes, what is so difficult about that? It will protect your integrity, Potter. If you don’t do it for yourself, imagine how Hermione will feel if you get tangled up in this, and your image marred because of what she will see as her fault.”

Harry looked at Hermione sadly, and Severus knew he had won.

“I will follow through on one condition.”

Severus’s brow furrowed together as he looked at him, trying to figure out what Potter was getting at. “Depends on the nature of the condition, but I am listening.”

“I get to teach your classes for one day.”

“Absolutely not, why on earth would I let you.”

“Imagine how Hermione is going to feel when I don’t take time from work over this because you won’t let me teach for one day.”

_Fuck… Maybe the hat should have put Potter in Slytherin…_ Severus thought, inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Very well. One day and you have to get Minerva’s approval. And if you destroy my classroom, so help me, Potter, you will rue the day.”

Potter smiled at him with satisfaction and nodded. “Okay, I will put in my leave of notice with Kingsley. I’m also sending him around to get your statement. Who is going to say that the Minister of Magic is to impartial.”

“You might have a point, Kingsley is not fond of me, cordial yes, but not fond. He has no investment in Hermione or Ron, just you. Since you are leaving the field, it would seem logical to let him take the lead. This will be a huge public relations incident as it is, and Shacklebolt will be best suited to handle it. Brava Potter.” Severus gave him an exaggerated bow and a flick of his hand.

“I am marking this on my calendar as the day that you complimented me.” Potter joked.

Severus grimaced. “Please do not remind me every year, or I will have to rescind it.”

“Agreed. So what’s next?”

Severus looked at Hermione. She was sleeping peacefully in the muted light. He noticed that the sun was bothering her earlier and so he had tinted the windows to give her peace.

“Knight checks Queen; Rook takes Knight.” Severus offered and smiled at Potter. “I’ve almost got him in check.”

“Can you be less cryptic and give me actual information. Unless, of course, you and Ron are playing wizard chess, and then I’m confused.” Potter asked him, looking like Severus had just started speaking French to him.

Potter was exasperating him. “You are an idiot. Next, I reach out to my contacts and ask them to make their moves. And you and I and Mrs. Potter play nurse to Hermione until she is better. And we wait.”

“How come she gets to be Hermione, but I’m still Potter?” Potter inquired, looking put out.

Severus let the barest of smiles edge his lips. “Perhaps I like her more than I like you, Mr. Potter.”

“Oh, now we are back at Mr. Potter, damn.” Harry groused, sounding more like a boy now than a man.

“Yes, and if you keep it up, you will serve detention. Now, go get whatever it is you need to keep yourself occupied and come back, I have fire calls I need to make.”

Hermione stirred a little like she was going to wake up, and Severus walked away from Potter, reaching out and grasping her hand. He held it for a few moments before giving it a gentle squeeze. She stilled, going back to a restful sleep.

He turned to Harry Potter, looking at him incredulously. The man who lived looked between then and tilted his head.

Severus whispered. “It eases her tension in sleep. Is it not our goal to make her comfortable?”

Potter nodded his head, a look of disbelief still on his face as he went to the fire and headed home.

* * *

Severus sat in the office at Malfoy manor as the two blonde men before him looked over papers. Narcissa had already insisted that he have a drink, and he was woefully unprepared to deny her hospitality. He’d been running on fumes since Saturday, two days ago, and the warm wash of liquor at least eased the aches and pains.

“As of right now, he is in debt 30,000 Galleons,” Draco said, looking up to Severus. 

Severus felt his eyebrows hit his hairline. That was nearly all of the man’s salary. “That means he has been living off of her salary for a while.”

“Yes, because that is just his legal debts.” Lucius offered, looking at yellow forms that his elf had brought to him. “He’s in the hole with three of the six betting syndicates. He’s borrowed a lot of money on his name and association with Potter.”

“How much and will this come back on Granger?”

“57,000 Galleons. Ron’s been losing a lot recently. And not if we have anything to do with it.” Lucius said, flipping over another form. “Financially, he is living hand to mouth. What his debt doesn’t take from him, the sharks do. All of his assets are in shares that he cannot liquidate and physical objects, trivial Quidditch memorabilia.”

“Father, some of those pieces are worth thousands of galleons. To you, they are worthless, but to the right buyer, his collection is a gold mine.” Draco said, looking over his shoulder at what Lucius was.

Lucius looked up at his son and rose an eyebrow. “Do you have a buyer in mind? Do you know anyone?”

“No, but Hermione does, and I am sure if I let a little bird get it into Viktor Krum’s ear that he can help Hermione, he would more than happily help me source it out.” Draco offered.

Severus had to hand it to the boy; he was shrewd and correct. Krum had already tried to get Minerva to let him see Hermione after the Prophet published what had happened to her. He’d jump at the chance to help her in any way.

Honestly, Severus was glad to have the two of them looking into this matter. While they had been unsuccessful in getting Ron’s actual bank information due to Gringott's rules, they were quickly able to buy off Mr. Weasley’s debts and determine from there what was what. He didn’t have a head for this kind of puzzle; finances were simple to him. He made money, he saved money, and then when Severus needed something, he found the best deal on it he could. 

Secluded Delight’s had been his first investment ever, and he was still shocked at how much he got in returns from it.

If the Malfoy Family knew anything, it was money and who else to find out where Ronald Weasley had been spending it than them.

He watched quietly, asking questions, and answering them as they tore through his financial history. There were still about 35,000 galleons over four years that wasn’t accounted for, and they would have no idea where that went unless they got Gringott’s to release the information. And that was never going to happen.

“What’s the end result? What can you do to him?” Severus asked, bored, and watching the timepiece. It was nearly time for Hermione’s pain potion, and he didn’t entirely trust Potter to remember it.

“First, I put him in collections—most of these debts he hasn’t paid on in months. I make a big deal about how this is not connected to what has happened. Explain it was a part of my investigation into my business dealings with the man. Most of the purchase deals have been backdated to show that I owned these debts months ago. The Prophet will publish a piece on it. I will let it slip that he has substantial debt to the syndicate houses too. It will put pressure on the Ministry to look at his position.” Draco said, standing up and stretching from his seat.

Severus nodded; it sounded like a good plan.

Lucius grabbed his cane and stood up, grinning as he spoke. “And I will put pressure on his boss, who happens to be an old associate. Explain that this could put his whole department and job at risk if the Minister thought he didn’t know how to run things in his own house. Push for Weasley’s public dismissal. Talk him into pushing for reparations from Weasley for any misdoings.”

“What about Granger? They are married, are her assets going to be at risk?” Severus asked, wanting to make sure that he wasn’t sinking the boat he tried to save.

“That is where Romilda comes in. I already scheduled another interview where I explain that I feel indebted to Granger for all she has done for my family and me and so I have made the collections contract clear that any assets that are owned by her will remain hers. After all, isn’t it just horrible what she is going through? If I raised my hand to a woman, my mother would cut it off.”

“No, I would make you cut it off and gift it to the girl with a golden apology card,” Narcissa called from the adjacent room, where she was working on her cross-stitching.

“Yes, mother.”

“That goes for any males, or otherwise you have as paramours as well.” She called, and Draco turned a shade of purple that Severus had not ever seen on the boy.

“Cissy, darling, you just outed your son to his godfather. Bad form.”

“I thought Severus knew.” He heard Narcissa get up and come into the room. “I am so sorry, Draco; I had thought you’d told him before us.”

He could see that Draco wanted to run and hide, but Severus had a better idea. 

Severus held up his hand to quiet Cissy, looking his godson in the eyes. “Do you have something you would like to tell me?”

Draco kicked his foot and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Don’t get formal on me as a defense Draco. Tell me.” Severus said, his voice soft. He shifted his body language so that he looked like he was open and actively listening.

“I’m Pansexual. I like everyone, men, women, those who are both, those who are neither, those who started out as one, and were actually the other. And by like, I mean, I want to have sex with.” Draco said, looking at the floor by the time he was finished.

“Draco, look at me,” Severus ordered, but the order was even less severe than usual.

Severus paid no mind to the young man’s parents as Draco lifted his eyes to meet his. Severus stood up and crossed the room, standing within arms reach of the younger Malfoy. 

“Regardless of your preferences, I will always be your godfather. I respect your choice, and I don’t have to understand it to do that. I do not think there is anything wrong with your feelings, and I am more invested in your happiness than I am in what anyone else might think about your choices.” Severus offered sincerely, drawing on what he’d learned so far in his research. Draco was seeking validation, and obviously, Severus was so important to him that he’d been afraid to tell him.

Draco was looking at him like he could not believe what he’d just heard. “Really?”

“I do not lie about these kinds of things.” Severus offered seriously

Severus did not expect the hug that he got from the 25-year-old man, but he accepted it. It was awkward because hugging wasn’t in his skill set, but he wrapped his arms around him.

“Draco, men don’t hug, we shake hands.” Lucius offered, and Severus glared at him.

“Lucius, if your son is so happy he is willing to hug me, you leave him be,” Severus said, squeezing Draco before stepping back.

“Now, I have a confession for you, Draco,” Severus said with a smile, looking at the young man who looked like he’d cried a bit.

Draco was concerned but nodded at him.

“I always knew you were a poof. I just didn’t know if you knew. You spent too much time chasing Potter and not enough time chasing Parkinson.”

Lucius and Narcissa both chuckled, and Draco looked embarrassed. “I suppose you might have been right. Can we go back to talking about destroying Weasley? I’m done talking about myself.”

“Gladly. Now, you were saying about your interview.”

Narcissa went back to the other room, and Severus retook his seat. He could only be here a few more minutes before he needed to get back to the castle and Hermione.

“Oh yes, I will offer public support of her in this trying time and let her know that we do not forget those who have helped us regain our good name. I will also offer than if anyone else has any information or has been a victim of Weasley to contact my business office. I will help them with whatever resources I have at my disposal.” Draco offered, taking a seat, still looking red in the face.

“You aren’t going to tell Potter, are you?”

“Of course not. It’s not Potter's business.” Severus offered, brushing the thought aside. He got to his feet, readying himself to leave.

“Draco, you and your mother, go off, I have something I need to discuss with Severus privately,” Lucius said, ushering the young man out of the room.

Severus waited until they had both left before looking at Lucius. “Yes?”

“He has been afraid to tell you for nearly two years now. I am impressed with how you handled it. He was afraid you’d lose your mind.” Lucius offered, walking with him toward the fireplace.

“As I said, his choices don’t change who he is. Just as much as yours or mine didn't change us.”

“When did you get so philosophical.”

“Recent bit of growth, found a few good books. But that isn’t what you wanted to talk about.”

“No, it is not.”

Lucius drew a thin envelope out of his coat pocket, offering it to Severus. “Weasley’s wand. It got lost in the evidence room, poor management in that department.”

Severus took it and tucked it into his robes, giving his old friend a knowing smile. “I’ve heard as much. Shame, that, since he will need his wand to do anything if he gets out.”

“I know. And if Ronald wanted to go to Gringotts, they won’t let him access his funds. Not that they are fans of his right now as it is. However, I have heard that Miss Granger has a good friend there, Lugkoff, I think, who would still let her in without her wand. She’d just have to mention how helpful they were while she was pushing for the expanded goblin civil rights statute.” Lucius explained, and Severus let out a chuckle.

“Feels like old times, but this time, we aren’t the bad guys.”

“It does. Now, go, I know you want to see that the Granger gets her potions on time.” Lucius offered, opening the floo powder for him.

“Thank you, Lucius.”

“Don’t thank me. I am paying a long-overdue debt.”

* * *

“How the hell was I supposed to know?!”

“You could have started by using your brain and asking?”

“I did ask her; she said she didn’t want to talk about it?”

“And that didn’t clue you into the fact that the matter could be serious, Mr. Longbottom!?” Severus snarled, standing on the other side of the staff table from the man. He’d decided with the object between them he wouldn’t do something he regretted.

Neville was just as mad, screaming at him with his hands on the table. “Divorces are messy; I thought her feelings were just hurt! He said he wanted to reconcile!”

He would have been impressed if he had been so angry. Neville had almost undone everything he was trying to do.

“I don’t think you thought at all. Do you realize that your actions nearly got Hermione killed? If I hadn’t made sure that she had an anti-apparation charm on her, he would have taken her before I could have reached her.”

Neville made a sound of rage, slamming his fist on the table. “It cannot be that serious? This is Ron we are talking about here.”

“Mr. Longbottom, would you like to see what I saw. I can easily get a Pensieve in here and put all your doubts aside that he would have killed her.” Severus was snarling, gesturing with his hands toward the door he would march out to get it if the man said next.

“Sure, why not, you are already making me relive memories of your bullying of me from school by screaming at me,” Neville pointed at him angrily before throwing his hands up in the air. “Why wouldn’t I want to watch my friend get the shit kicked out of her by her husband. What's a little more trauma on top of this!?”

The wind went out of his argument. Severus stopped, leaning back on his feet and looked at the angry, red-faced man in front of him. If he looked closely, Longbottom wasn’t just mad, he was afraid. His body was turned away from him, closed off, and his eyes were wide like a deer.

Severus was not going to continue to be the same angry man he always been; he was not going to turn into his own father. This had to stop here.

He exhaled, rubbing his forehead as he took a seat. “Mr. Longbottom, sit down.”

Neville looked flabbergasted and confused, standing there with his mouth open. 

Severus took another calming breath, releasing the anger and preparing himself for what he knew he had to do.

“Please, sit down, you and I need to talk, like adults, about this and another matter,” Severus said, actively trying to adjust his body language to be less threatening. 

“Uh. Alright.” Neville said, his voice cracking as it seemed the anger left him for the confusion.

“First, I would like to apologize,” Severus said, focusing on the words he wanted to use.

“Uh. Alright.”

“You didn’t mean to put her in danger. I have heard you, and I have ignored your pleas of ignorance. I am upset that I was not able to keep her safe, and your accident has provided a perfect target for me to transfer my anger.” Severus said he kept his tone even and calm and focused on the facts and what he could control.

“I really didn’t mean to. I would never have put Hermione in danger. She’s already been through so much.” Neville offered, seeming to relax, at least to Severus’s perspective.

He was drawing on the book on forgiveness he’d been reading. It had adjusted some of his perspectives. He had already decided he was going to implement as much as he could in his daily life. He wanted to see if it worked and if he felt better for it. Who better to start with than Neville Longbottom.

“I apologize for yelling at you and triggering unpleasant sensations and memories. However, I do ask that in the future, you take consideration that your actions could have drastic effects on other people. Is that an acceptable request?”

Neville nodded at him. “I’m sorry that I did not think to consult her or you and Minerva about it.”

“I accept your apology and forgive you for the part that is mine to forgive.”

“Uh. Alright. Thank you.” Neville stuttered, looking like he saw a monster in front of him.

“I would also like to talk to you about something else that you have brought to my attention.”

“Sure. What is it.”

“I need to ask your forgiveness, even though I do not deserve it, for how I treated you when you were a child. I am ashamed that I could not handle my resentment of the circumstances in which I found myself and that I saw fit to take it out on you for no reason other than your last name. And your ineptitude.”

“If you hadn’t said that last part, I would have thought you were having some kind of fit. What brought this on?” Neville asked, leaning on the table, and Severus could see he was searching his face. “You are acting strange.”

“I am trying to express, Mr. Long- Neville, that I was wrong. I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I was so hard on you that when the dark lord was looming over the school and us, had dementors in it, that I was your boggart. No child should have been that afraid of their teacher. As I think of it now, I am appalled.” Severus explained, closing his eyes and letting out a breath.

Neville rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “You were pretty scary then, you still are now, but I know now that you were doing more than we could ever understand. Yes, you were a right prick, but you kept us alive.”

“Just because I did what any adult in power should have done does not excuse me for the actions and words I said that no teacher should ever do. It was my job to teach you and protect you, and I only taught you to be afraid of me.”

“Not the truth. I learned how to survive Finnigan's explosions, and how to identify plant parts for brews, which helps me now teach my students, which helps them in Horace’s class.” The man across the table offered, obviously uncomfortable.

“Be that as it may, I cannot change the past, but I will do my best to try to remember this conversation and that even when I am angry, I am not always in the right by yelling at you or someone else about it. I hope that my apology, while it doesn’t make up for years of bullying, can help you let go of it.” 

Severus stood to get up, his neck hurting and a desire to separate from what he felt was an emotionally charged situation urging him on. He made it to the door before Neville stopped him.

“Severus. I forgive you. You may not think you deserve it, but I never in a million years thought you would even acknowledge what you did to me. It doesn’t change pain, or how I feel about that time, but for what it is worth, I forgave you a long time ago, when you started dueling club and started actually teaching instead of yelling.”

“Thank you, Mr. Longbottom.”

* * *

He had his head leaning on the inside of the wingback chair. His book was open on his knee, but his eyes had stopped focusing an hour ago. He’d slept only a few hours, but he was not going to snore and make her panic again. Instead, he watched her rest when he could no longer read.

 _I wonder if this is what she did when I was the one in the bed…_ Severus thought, rolling his neck. His body had not been pleased with this new schedule, but it’d put it through worse, he knew he would survive a few days without rest.

Hermione’s hand was in his as he watched her rest. Every time she seemed troubled or stirring awake, he would squeeze her hand. He remembered how it would ease him when he was just on the surface of waking. Severus wanted to provide her a sense of comfort. Merlin knows he owed her that much.

His eyes unfocused, and he found himself back once more, to when he was recovering.

  
“You are a rotten loser.” Hermione had teased him, resetting the chessboard.

“Contrary to belief, I am not a nice person if I am losing or winning.” He offered, sitting up for the first time since he’d started speaking again. She’d managed to adjust him so he could have his feet off the bed with his back supported and suggested the play a game to help flex his mind a little.

She’d already been making sure that he wouldn’t lose function in his limbs. Every day for at least an hour, she moved his legs, pushing against them, bending them. She’d do the same to his arms, making sure that he could feel that she was touching each finger and toe. 

He knew it was needed, but that didn’t mean he didn’t complain about it.

“Okay, I’ll let you start first. You can stop going easy on me.” She said, turning the board so that it was his turn.

He looked at the board and told her what piece he wanted her to move and where. Dutiful, she did as asked and then made her move.

“Your trial is about to start.” She said, looking at the board, and he huffed, wishing he could cross his arms.

“You mean the parade they are putting on before they shove me off into Azkaban, where all your hard work will be for naught.”

“You know that Harry and I will not let them put you in Azkaban. I already told you that.”

He told her the next move and sighed. “And I think you underestimate how many people hate me and overestimate how far Potter’s name will go.”

“It’s not just Harry. I’m going to be your proxy. I will fight just as hard for you as I did for the Malfoys. I did tell you, right?” Hermione had offered, moving her piece across the board.

“Tell me what?”

“I got them pardoned. Without Narcissa, we would have lost. Without Draco, Harry would have never known what was going on. And well, Lucius suffered enough and was incredibly repentant. It wasn’t even a hung jury like Harry was afraid it would be.” She said with pride, and he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Didn’t they torture you in their home and nearly kill you?” Severus asked, hoping to provoke something in her other than her cheerfulness.

She made a face, rolling her eyes as she nodded. “Yes, that did happen in their home, but they didn’t do it, Lestrange did.”

“And yet, you still helped them. There is something wrong with you, Granger.” He gave her another set of directions for the board.

“No, there is something wrong with thinking that people don’t deserve second chances.” She huffed and moved the piece that he told her.

She was insufferable, but since she was his only company in this hell, he was forced to talk to her. He’d tried ignoring her, but that just made her talk to him without pause.

He growled at her, shaking his head with the little motion he did have. “How can you be so brilliant and so stupid at the same time.”

With a smile, she threw it back at him completely unafraid of him.“How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time?” She moved her piece across the board.

He took his turn through her by telling her the move. “I take offense to that. Check.”

“I suppose you would, but I thought we were asking silly questions. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that I am going to make sure they absolve you. You deserve it.”

“You have no idea what I deserve, silly girl.” He grumbled, popping his ears.

The door to the infirmary opened, and Hermione turned around. Harry Potter, the boy wonder, and his sidekick, Ronald Weasley, came waltzing.

“Mione, Harry and I are going to the Broomsticks for some food, Professor McGonagall said she’d come up here if you wanted to come too,” Ron said, gesturing toward the door. 

He watched as she looked between him, the board, and then the two boys. “No thank you, Ron, I’d rather stay here. Severus is about to trounce me in chess.”

The boy’s face had fallen then. “Oh, alright. Suit yourself.”

“See you later tonight, Hermione,” Harry said, clapping his friend's shoulder.

Severus was perplexed and sought her gaze. 

“Why aren’t you going with your friends.”

Hermione shrugged, adjusting in her seat to look over the board. “Rather stay here.”

He’d found that hard to believe at the time. There was no way that anyone would rather stay with him and be insulted. “With me, an invalid who can do nothing but insult you and tell you where to move the pieces for the game.”

“Here with you, playing a game of wits, rather than hearing them laugh too loudly, get too drunk and get into trouble. I’ve filled my quota of taking care of the two of them for a while.” She offered quietly.

Her tone belied that there was more to the story, and since he was a captive audience, he wanted to know more. 

“Oh no, is there trouble in paradise? Has Ronald been found wanting?” Severus cooed sarcastically.

She moved her piece across the board, winning. “Checkmate. I am sure you don’t want to hear about my personal life.”

She had a point. Severus didn’t care a whit, but it had to be more entertaining than listening to her prattle on about a trial that was a farce. “You are right; I do not. However, as you can see, I am short on other people to talk to.”

Hermione fixed him with a stern stare as if she was unamused by his sarcasm.“He’s a bit mean when he gets drunk, and I don’t feel like arguing with him. He can go to the pub with Harry, get it out, and I’ll talk to him in the morning when he is sober.”

“Ah- I suppose he’s still trying to cope.” Severus understood then. The boy was likely trying to get over the devastation of the war. He knew that if he had the choice, he’d be half a bottle in by now.

“Yeah, something like that. Don’t get it off on the wrong foot, he’s a prat, but he’s never hurt anybody. I just, I don’t like the way he is when he is drunk.” Hermione explained, looking at her fingers and then at the door that they’d left through.

“I know the type. Are you going to reset the board?” He said, looking at his loss.

“Oh yes, I’ll go first this time.” She jumped to, switching everything around.

“Severus, you need to go to sleep,” Minerva said to him, pulling him from the memory.

He lifted his head, not realizing that his daydreaming had him tune out of the world around him.

“I am fine; she is still sleeping.” He offered, looking at Hermione.

Minerva looked at him, sternly through her glasses. “If you don’t go to sleep, I will order you too. Ginny Potter is here to watch her. You are of no use to Hermione if you kill yourself taking care of her.”

He looked to see the redhead woman looking at him curiously.

“I am fine, Minerva.”

“Severus Snape, as Headmistress, your friend, and your boss, I am ordering you to go and get some sleep.”

He grumbled, squeezing Hermione’s hand before he got out of the chair. “She had her last potion at 1 am, about an hour ago. She gets another one at 6 am. Do not be late on it, or she can wake up and fall out of the restorative sleep.”

“I know, I know. My husband will be here to teach your classes later. Thank you for asking George and Angelina to watch the kids.” Ginny said, taking the seat he’d been in.

“I expected you would need some help.”

“Severus, go before I take you myself,” Minerva said, and Severus stumbled his way into the floo and his rooms.

He flopped on to his bed, groaning in the comfort of not sleeping in a chair. He set the alarm for 5:55 am, knowing that he would not be able to rest and not see that Hermione was getting her potions. 

He fell asleep quickly.

* * *

“I heard all about your dueling club. I’m impressed and upset that you have never invited me. You know you would love the chance to toss me around in front of your students.” Potter said excitedly as he walked into the room,

Severus rolled his eyes, eating some cashews, and reading. “Yes, but what would they learn from that?”

“That even heroes can be defeated?” Potter offered his hands out to his sides as he moved toward the fireplace.

He thought about it for a moment, and it appealed to him. _If the children thought that even Harry Potter lost sometimes, they would feel less hard on themselves._

“You may have a point, Potter. You may come on Friday if you are so eager to have your hide handed to you.”

“I don’t think you will be in a form to a duel, not with how you are running yourself into the ground caring for her,” Harry said, pointing at Hermione, who was still sleeping.

She had been recovering quickly; every time he did a scan, the concussion was diminishing. In his mind, this bit of discomfort was worth it so that she would wake up and feel physically better. It would make healing the mental parts easier.

“I will be waking her up tomorrow morning. The concussion has almost healed, and I don’t want her to be out for more than needed. It could affect her emotionally, having lost all that time.”

“You’ve changed a lot.” The young man said, leaning against the fireplace.

Severus rose an eyebrow at him. “Is that a compliment, Potter? Flattery will not get you another chance to teach my class.”

“Just an observation. I’ll be off, promised Gin a night where we both sleep in the bed at the same time. Something revolutionary.” Potter offered, looking mocked shocked.

“Potter, you have two children, you had to have been in bed at the same time at least twice before this.”

Harry Potter smiled a smile that told Severus he regretted saying anything. “Actually, neither of our children were conceived in our bed. James was on a broom, and Lily was at the World Cup the year The Harpies won.”

“I have many regrets in my life, and this conversation might be the greatest.” He rubbed his forehead, not wanting to think about what he’d just been told.

“Good night Severus.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Severus offered as the man left via the floor.

* * *

She’d started stirring, and he scooted the chair back, giving her distance to feel safe, but not enough that she felt alone. When she opened her eyes, she smiled, and it matched the morning sun. He could already tell she felt better.

He turned to the paper, reading the updates on the fall of Ronald Weasley and all the speculation on it.“Shall I have your elf bring you coffee, or do you suspect you will want to sleep more?” 

“Coffee sounds like heaven. I’ll be back.” She said as she eased off the bed and into the bathroom.

He knew that feeling and knew she might be in there for a while. “Mind your balance.” 

  


“Queenie?” He called, and the house-elf showed up, this time with a snowflake party hat.

The elf gave a bow and looked at him patiently. “Yes, Professor Snape, how can I help?”

“Professor Granger is awake and would like a cup of her coffee if you would please,” Severus asked, looking from the paper to the elf.

Queenie looked at the bed and made a jump for joy, covering her small mouth with her hands as she smiled. “Oh yes, Sir, should I bring her the breakfast now too?”

“Yes, place it on the table.” He pointed to her desk.

“Yes, Sir,” Queenie said, popping away.

A few minutes later, she was back, setting everything just so before leaving again. Severus had to admit; Queenie might be the most eccentric house-elf he had ever met.

Hermione walked out of the bathroom, and he listened as she stopped just behind the chair.

“Severus, can I ask you to tell me the truth about something?” Her voice quivered, and he looked up, confused.

_Was something wrong, had something happened in the bathroom, and he had not heard it?_

“I will unless I cannot.”

What could she possibly be so scared about in the short time she’d been gone. 

Her voice wavered. “Did you dress me?” 

_Ah, that made sense…_ Severus thought as he looked at her reassuringly.

“I did not. Minerva transfigured your clothing for you. I would not have so grossly violated your person unless there was a life or death need.”

It was the truth; he would never strip someone down unless they were about to die. With Hermione’s particular circumstances, he wasn’t sure he would even do that without someone else to aid him. 

“I appreciate that.”

He grunted at her, still sleepy, and looking forward to his full night of sleep he was going to get tonight.

He went back to the paper, reading about the several teams that had renounced all involvement with Weasley. His favorite team, the Cannons, removed his nameplate from his private seat and opened that seat for purchase. He’d have to tell Draco to purchase it for Krum.

He heard her moan into her coffee cup, and he did his best not to be phased by the incredibly lewd noises she was making as she savored it. That woman loved her coffee. Which reminded him, he needed to get her more chocolates.

“Anything of interest. Or does Skeeter still think I am a strumpet.” Hermione’s voice cut through the silence.

His amusement was hard to contain as he spoke. “Rita Skeeter has been fired from the Prophet.”

“What? When?” She asked him, confused and in disbelief.

“On Monday. According to the paper, it was due to pressure from the public for more authenticity. And due to concerns over her words, bringing legal action against the paper.” His concise response was still amused, he had felt so good having seen that article Monday morning.

Hermione was quiet again for a moment, and she asked the question he was hoping she would.

“Severus, what day is it?” 

“Wednesday. I’ve been giving you sleeping aid in your pain potions to help your concussion. The swelling is all gone at this point.” Flipping to the next page, he talked to her like everything was normal. If he acted that it wasn’t, it could make her anxious, and he wanted her to have as peaceful a waking as she could.

He gestured to her desk as she had quieted down again.“Queenie brought you something to eat, you’ve been on supplementals this whole time, but I know it is not the same as real food.” 

When she said nothing, he continued, his voice measured and calm. “Mrs. Potter advised me that your preferred breakfast was that. She will be here shortly.”

“I- thank you. Have you been here the whole time? What about your classes?” Hermione asked him, and he shook his head, knowing that her focus would be on him and not on her own person.

“Mr. Potter and Mrs. Potter have been taking shifts with me. My class got the ‘treat’ of a guest professor yesterday, as Potter taught them. Minerva was beyond tickled about it.” He made it clear he was not pleased about Potter having free reign of his classroom yesterday. He’d not been surprised when Minerva said yes, only that she’d been so happy about it.

He heard her laugh at him, and he gave her a look, making sure as not to be too harsh, but enough to tell her it wasn’t funny.

For several long minutes, it was peaceful and quiet. Save for a few wayward chuckles from Hermione, of course. He didn’t think it was so funny, but he wasn’t going to tell her off for being happy. 

He looked at the timepiece he’d brought to help him keep track of her potions. Mrs. Potter was running late. 

He heard her curse and turned, looking at her cautiously. _Had she dropped something, or was she experiencing a sudden headache?_

Hermione’s face was flushed, almost like embarrassment, but it could also be a sign of something gone wrong. 

“Something wrong? Granger, why are you, flushed?” Severus needed to know if he needed to do something or get her something. 

It was strange how she looked away from him. “Ah, I’m fine. Lost in thought.” 

He was just about to ask her if she was sure when Ginny Weasley made it through the fire.“Oh, thank Merlin, you are awake. Sorry, I’m late Professor, Lily refused to let Harry dress her. Said he can’t do her hair right.”

It was time for him to get to his class and find out what was salvageable.

“It is nothing. I imagine I have to recover my classroom from your husband anyway, so a few moments will not add to the destruction.” He grumbled, walking over to where Hermione was sitting and eating her meal

He fixed her with a hard look. “Granger, if you feel ill, do not conceal it. Mrs. Potter has already been advised of what to do in my absence. I shall be back around lunchtime.”

He looked at Ginerva and gave her a nod before leaving. ”Mrs. Potter.”

When the door closed behind him, he looked at the Medusa, giving her a pointed stare. “Watch over them, if something goes wrong, come tell the werewolf portrait in my classroom.

“I will guard my charge, man-shaped serpent.”

With that, Severus made it to his office. He’d not been in it in a few days. On his desk, there was a letter addressed to him from the burrow. He opened it, wondering what storm was coming his way now that Molly had decided to do more than defend her son.

  
**Snape!**

**How could you do this? You know that Ron and Hermione are meant to be together. You are the most selfish, arrogant, inconsiderate man I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. I don’t know what you did to get her to leave him, but you need to let her go and let her come back to her true love.**

**And if you touch a hair on my son’s head again, I will not hesitate to come for you, Severus. I have already lost one child; you will not make me lose another.**

**Honestly, I thought I had made myself clear years ago on this madness. You are not good enough for Hermione. What can you offer her besides a life of sadness and having people judge her? What good can come from this Severus? You saw reason years ago, so why now, why make a move and ruin my son’s happiness and Hermione's happiness? Isn’t that all you said you wanted for her, was happiness. She doesn’t seem so happy now.**

**Think about it, Severus; you are jealous of Ron because when you let Hermione go, she went to him and never looked back. She kept you alive because it was the right thing to do, not because of some kind of feelings.**

**A man your age should know that this will not turn out well.**  
**Do the right thing and be the honorable man I know you can be.**  
**Send her away again so she and Ron can be happy again.**

**-Molly**


	16. Holiday Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

It had started snowing at the castle. The white crystalline shapes float through the air, muffling all the noise. Hermione had taken her tea to the balcony wrapped up in a blanket, enjoying it the muggle way. Hot tea, with tendrils of steam drifting away, fighting against the snow.

Hermione had convinced Ginny to go home early, that she was more than capable of caring for herself now that she was awake. It was partly because Ginny looked tired, and because Hermione wanted time to be alone. She needed air that no one else was breathing at the time.

So much had happened. Hermione hardly believed most of it; it seemed like some great practical joke, where everyone yelled surprise at the end. Instead of laughing, however, Hermione knew she would cry. At least she knew that Ron was in the Ministry, unable to get to her, and she could for the first time in years, breathe.

Now was the time for her to grieve; to think about what she’d lost. She needed to take advantage of it while she sat in the eye of the hurricane. 

Hermione was not stupid; she knew that this wouldn’t be the end of everything. Nothing ended simply. No, she had to take this time and do what she could. Before the storm hit again and she would have to use all of her will to survive. 

A wet tear ran down her cheek, making her cold where it moved. Guilt threaded through her mind as the most significant loss still ached in her chest. Under her heart, there was an empty space where a second heart had once beat. It was like a physical pain that always lingered but hurt more when noticed.

How had she been able to get to this place where she was finally safe for a moment now. Now, after she’d lost so much of what she wanted and who she was. 

_Why hadn’t this happened months ago? Why didn’t the world see and help me save us?_   
_Was it my fault? Could I have done something more?…_   
_It wasn’t easy to get here, but if I had come then…_   
_Would this have been the way if I’d come here before…_   
_When I was pregnant… Could I have saved the baby…_

Her heart sank as the 'what-if’s', 'maybe’s' and 'should have’s' poured over her. She sat in the chair, ignoring the wet from the snow, setting the tea on the table. Hermione put her face in her hands as she tried to defend herself from her greatest enemy, herself. 

Hermione let loose a strangled scream, wrapping her arms around herself under the blanket. Once she’d opened the floodgates, there was no stopping it.

She cried for her lost child, for her marriage, for all the years that she’d done everything she could and it was never enough.

“I will never be enough.” She whispered through the tears. There was no one there but her, the words were for her ears only.

“I wasn’t good enough for Ron; as a wife, as a friend, I wasn’t good enough to be a mother. All I’m good for is my brain, and even then, only when someone needs something.” Hermione had started trembling from the cold, but she stayed in place.

Self-loathing billowed into her chest. Anger that she felt at herself reared its ugly head. “I’ve never been good enough, not for Molly, or the World. I’m wasted space with a brilliant mind. Most brilliant witch, but not good enough for anything else.”

She hurt, it was a physical squeeze on her chest like the world was pressing on her, hoping she would explode under the pressure. Stabbing pains ripped through her gut as she sunk into the ocean of emotions that she’d just barely keeps float on before.

Squinting her eyes, she dug her fingers into her side, her body jerking with the sobs.

“Why did I get to survive when he didn’t even get a chance to live. Why couldn’t Ron have just killed me then too? Why do I get to go on living when I don’t deserve to!”

“A wise woman once told me, when I asked that same question, that it was so I could do everything again, on my own terms.” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione jerked her head up, seeing Severus standing in the doorway, his arms crossed loosely. She couldn’t make out what it was in his eyes, but it wasn’t malice, or joy, or even anger. It was something almost sorrowful. 

Wiping her eyes, she tried to push down all the feelings. Severus had already seen her fall apart too many times. She’d just wanted a chance to do it in private this time.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, moving to go inside, pulling the blanket around her. “I didn’t hear you come in. I- I would have come inside.”

He unfolded his hands, taking the step to her, one hand coming to touch her shoulder softly. “Shut up, Granger.”

In his black eyes, there was depth and warmth, and Hermione felt herself searching for something. The pains in her chest subsided as she looked at him for a long moment. He didn’t break her eye contact; he didn’t move, he stood there with snowflakes landing on his head, looking at her.

“I suppose you used that brilliant mind to convince Mrs. Potter to give you time to yourself?” He finally broke the spell, looking from her to the room inside.

“She was tired, and I can handle giving myself pain potions.”

“And pneumonia, too, it seems.” He offered, flicking his wand and casting a warming spell over them both.

“I-”

“If you say sorry, I will tell you to shut up again? Come inside.” Severus shifted his hand down her arm and caught her elbow. His hand was a trail of warmth, and if ran over her skin and into her chest.

Hermione let him lead her by her elbow. “Alright.”

He looked tired in the light inside; he had bags under his eyes. He let her elbow go and moved to sit. She sat in the opposite chair, looking at him as he brought the fire to a roar and then rubbed his nose with his index fingers.

“Hermione, I brought you a gift. Something that I think might help you, as it has helped me immensely as of late.” Severus said, not looking at her. “I’d actually planned to give it to you after we’d been to Hogsmeade, but other circumstances prevented me from doing so.”

She watched him curiously. In all honestly, she didn’t think he’d have a reason to get her a gift and didn’t understand why he would. She watched as he pulled a flat rectangular box out of his overcoat. He looked at her only long enough to make sure it was in her hands before looking at the fire.

“Thank you.” She whispered, placing it on her lap and opening it. The lid came off, and there was a blue leather book. She ran her hand over it, and it was soft to the touch. Pulling it out, she opened it, flipping through the pages. There was nothing on them.

“It’s a journal. You’ve been through a lot, and I thought you might like a safe place to let it all out.”

Hermione went to the first page and looked at the blue lettering on the coversheet. “She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes?”

He looked at her now, his eyebrow-raising. “What?”

“That’s what it says, see?” She said, turning the page toward her, her finger underneath it.

Severus’s expression was genuinely surprised. “So it does. I must have missed that when I purchased it. I thought you might like blue rather than a black one, and there was no way I was buying a Gryffindor scarlet one.”

Hermione looked at it and then back at him, closing it and bringing it to her chest. “I love it; thank you. It was very thoughtful.”

Severus nodded, looking back at the fire. “If you keep bottling up the pain, Hermione, it will turn you bitter and angry or destroy you. Take that as advice from a living example. I would advise that you write about what you are feeling rather than crying yourself into a panic. Be honest with yourself, even if you cannot be with others. I spelled it so that it would only open for you.”

Quiet fell over them once he stopped speaking, only the fire crackling in the air. It was like that for several moments, Hermione unsure and feeling embarrassed that he’d seen her ‘crying herself into a panic.’ It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it was heavy like there were many things unsaid between them. She didn’t know if she should thank him or ask him how much he had heard. Instead, she didn’t ask him anything, leaned back in the chair, and watched the fire.

They likely sat there for over half an hour, neither moving, neither saying anything. 

“Hermione.” He spoke softly, and she looked at him, seeing the golden light reflected in his eyes. “I think it would serve you to get some sleep tonight. I will be sleeping in my quarters, as I no longer fear you falling and hurting yourself. If anything happens, I expect you to come to wake me or send for me.”

He stood, moving to the door in a fluid motion. 

“I will if something happens. Good night.” She stammered, standing up and moving around the chair.

Severus opened the door and stopped, turning to look at her. “You were never the unworthy one, Hermione. It was Ron, who was not good enough for you.”

With those words, he left, closing the door behind him.

Hermione stood there for a few moments, feeling bereft and confused, with the journal still in her arms.

It had been years since she’d kept a journal. She used to obsessively keep one, taking notes, and keeping track of her many classes. When the war broke out into full madness, she kept track of where they’d been, but it had always been if they failed, someone could pick up where they left off.

Taking it to the desk, she set it down, getting out her ink and quill. Severus had a point. If she got it out into a place that was for her eyes only, it might help. 

Dipping her quill in ink, she looked at the first page with hesitation. A blank page to Hermione had always been a challenge, something to tackle and get the best possible grade on. This was different; there would be no grading; no one else would ever see it. She could write it, and it would never be used against her.

Touching the quill to the page, she began writing.

**My name is Hermione Jean Granger, and there is something wrong with me…**

* * *

  
Hermione had returned to classes Monday, and students were encouraged by her return. The lessons were very loose, as mid-terms had already happened. Most of the week was simply playing catch up and keeping them entertained until it was time for a break.

Severus had been distant since that Wednesday night when he’d given the journal to her. Hermione let it pass; after all, he likely had his fill of her babysitting her, and he had to catch up on his classes. 

It wasn’t as if she didn’t have other things to occupy her mind. She’d received a notice that her divorce hearing would be held in February and that had her anxiety climbing. She’d have to see him then, and she wasn’t sure if even two months would be enough to prepare her.

The other strange thing was that she kept finding things left in places for her. A box of expresso chocolates was on her desk. There had been a book delivered by owl post to her from Flourish and Blotts that she never ordered. It was one that she was keen to read, as it was on Arithmancy theories. A set of blue quills that were new and had different style tips. It was all little things that brought her joy, but she wasn’t sure who they were coming from. It could have been anyone, but she had a suspicion it was Ginny. 

Students left on the following Friday for holidays; only a handful stayed behind. Hermione had seen the train off, and Severus had stood right behind her, like a silent bodyguard. She had to admit it made it easier for her to go to the station knowing that he would be there. In the castle, after most of them had gone, it was quiet.

“Professor Granger.” Severus came up to her, as she’d been standing in the great hall, soaking in the quiet.

“Yes, Professor Snape?” She answered, wondering if there was something amiss.

“Minerva and I will be attending to important matters tomorrow morning. As such, I was asked if you would be willing to take rounds and ensure that students still here don’t get into trouble.”

“Of course, Severus, is there something wrong?” She asked, concerned.

Severus shook his head. “No, it is a board meeting before the hols begin. How has your head been?”

She touched her forehead reflexively and smiled at him. “I have been well.”

He gave her a pleased bow of his head. The whole interaction felt stranger to her than normal. Before she could comment on it, however, he had begun speaking.

“We also being work on my project on Monday. If you still think you are capable of assisting.”

_Project? She’d forgotten all about the project that he’d invited her to help him brew and test._

“Yes, of course, I had slipped my mind.”

“I can forgive that. Please be in the potions classroom at 8.”

“I will see you there.”

“Until then.” And with that, he turned sweeping out of the great hall. 

He was very odd.

* * *

The next morning she saw the Headmistress and Severus off from the main door. They had invested in her the powers of a deputy headmistress temporarily so that if the castle needed to alert someone, it could tell her. It was an interesting sensation. She’d always speculated that the castle was living in its own way, but being connected to it, she knew it was infinitely more alive than she’d known. It had a heartbeat, a soft, consistent sound that she could hear if she focused, but it wasn’t irritating.

What was irritating was that she could not find where she had misplaced her wand. She’d had it in the morning, and she knew she had it after they’d left, but now it was nowhere to be seen.

“Maria, I thought you’d left,” Hermione said, seeing the woman starting up a flight of stairs. She must not have expected Hermione because she startled, dropping the folded paper in her hand. 

“Oh, Hermione, you gave me a fright. I don’t leave until tonight, Naldo has to get out of work.” Professor Anadora said.

Hermione bent to pick up the paper, looking at it.

“It’s just a letter to him, to let him know that I am ready,” Maria said, moving to take it from her.

Hermione rose her eyebrow, looking at it and then the woman. “Maria, this is a blank piece of parchment, did you grab the wrong sheet?” 

Maria looked at her and then the paper and laughed, taking it into her hands. “I must have. Baby brain. I will just send it to him later; I am not trying these stairs more than once.”

Hermione watched as she tucked the paper in her pocket and turned to leave. “I will come to see you before I leave darling, I just need to go find where I put his letter. I hope I did not pack it.”

“Don’t do too much if you need help, let me know,” Hermione called after her. She rubbed her fingers together, as they felt strangely wet. She looked, but there was nothing there. Maybe it was a weird side effect of being attuned to the castle.

Hermione continued to follow her footsteps backward as she tried to find her wand. She’d had to wash her hands to get rid of the wet feeling, and it had helped. 

“Peeves, have you seen my wand?” Hermione asked the ghost as he tried to turn portraits upside down.

“Of course, it’s in the lake; I gave it to the squid so he wouldn’t feel bad.” The poltergeist said, laughing at himself. 

She rolled her eyes, continuing to search. Where ever she had put it, it had to have been on the other side of a stone wall, as when she tried to summon it, she got nothing. It made her anxious, to be the only person watching the castle and not having a wand.

She was tearing through the great hall when they’d returned, hours later.

“Granger, care to tell me why I found your wand in the snow outside the doors?” Severus said, walking toward her with her wand in his hand.

“I have been looking for it all morning.” She said, grabbing it from him. It felt oddly warm for being in the snow, but perhaps he’d tucked it in his pocket to keep her safe.

He had a sour look on his face, and Minerva looked like she was going to be sick. Perhaps the meeting had not gone as well as planned.

“The castle and the students were fine, but I would avoid the fourth floor, Peeves was playing pranks.” She offered, and they both seemed to nod.

“I will be leaving the power in you, Miss Granger, as I will be taking a holiday in my cottage. You and Severus will be the only teachers who will be there the whole time, so I leave you in charge.” Minerva said, and she walked away, looking pained.

“Is she alright?” Hermione asked, looking at Severus.

He still looked like he’d had a bad day, his face squinting. “The meeting was draining on us both. I detest politics. If you will excuse me.”

“Yes, of course. I hope you can get some rest and feel better.”

Severus had been walking away, and he stopped, turning to look at her. “You are far too kind for your own good.”

Before she could get a response out, he was storming off. He walked like he was on a mission and not to be messed with.

* * *

“Well, I’m off,” Maria said, coming to Hermione, who had tucked herself into the library.

Hermione stood and embraced her, squeezing her. “Good luck, and don’t overdo it, you have to take care of you and that baby. And I want pictures, and I want to know how well you are doing.” 

Maria Anadora smiled, hugging her back. “Don’t worry, Hermione; I know our paths will cross again in the future.”

“I hope so. I have valued your friendship and tutelage.” Hermione said, taking the woman’s hands in her own.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I have taught you nothing; you just needed a framework.”

“Goodbye, and please take care of yourself,” Hermione said in earnest. She wished nothing but the best for Maria, who had seemed to have found her happy ending. 

Maria took her hands back and gave Hermione a polite kiss on the cheek. “I will, you to Hermione. I cannot imagine the road you are walking down, but it will be over soon.”

“I look forward to that. Bye.” Hermione said with a smile, watching as the heavily pregnant witch made her way out of the room.

Hermione stretched and decided she was going to get some sleep. Walking through the hallway, she swore she saw Ginny going into the Headmistress’s office. 

_Maybe she is trying to invite her for Christmas…_

The thought saddened her, and she entered her rooms in a sad state. Collapsing in the chair, she sighed as Crookshanks crawled into her lap.

“I promised Harry to go to Christmas, but that will only be for a little while. We will be spending it here. I haven’t spent Christmas here since-” Hermione stopped herself.

_The last time she’d spent Christmas here had been while Snape was recovering._

“I don’t get it! Why do you have to go today, of all days?” Ron yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

Hermione rolled her eyes, packing up the leftovers of dinner to take to him. “Because he is all alone.” 

“But it is Christmas Hermione; we are supposed to spend it together.” Ron pouted. He looked like a giant baby like that, with his eyes all watered and his lip out.

Hermione shook her head. She’d already known this was going to be a fight, but she didn’t think he’d be this much of a selfish prat. “That is exactly why I am going; no one deserves to be alone on Christmas.”

“He does.” Ron snarled, running his fingers through his hair. He walked over to the counter and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey.

“Don’t start that?” She warned, giving him a stern look.

He turned to her, taking a drink and pointing the finger at her.

“Hermione, how do you know that you aren’t protecting someone who is just a monster.”

She stood up and crossed her arms, looking at him like he was an idiot. “Severus Snape is a hero who saved your ass more times than you know.”

The eyeroll she got in return was expected. Ron paced for a few more moments, and she already knew the next part of his argument.

“How do you know that he wasn’t doing it under his dark lord’s command.”

This was going to go there, even if she just wanted to get back to the infirmary. They’d had Christmas in the great hall, the survivors of the war together for those that didn’t have any family. It was also Minerva’s idea to help to mourn and clear the ghosts in everyone’s mind. The school would be starting in the next fall, and they wanted to have everyone as comfortable as they could be.

“I just know it, okay, Ron. Stop being an asshole.” She said, tucking her bag over her shoulder and holding the tray under her arm.

 _Here come the dramatics…_ Hermione thought as they walked out of the great hall. Everyone had been politely ignoring the row they were having.

“I’m an asshole because I want my girlfriend to spend Christmas with me.”

Walking up the stairs and not looking at him, she responded. “You are an asshole because you cannot think of anyone but yourself.”

“Well, who else is going to think about me if I don’t, you certainly don’t” He barked, taking another drink.

Hermione turned on him then, glaring. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“When is the last time Hermione, that you and I spent ANY time together. It’s always Snape this, or Severus this. And why the hell do you call him Severus?” He gestured wildly, his voice rising with every word.

“Because that is his name, Ron.” She yelled back. _This was so idiotic…_

“No, his name is Professor Snape, but you’ve gone and gotten all cuddly with him.”

“I am not cuddly with him; I am helping him.” She snapped, turning, and finished up the stairs. She was not going to let him get her riled up.

“Why Hermione! What are you getting out of it? He doesn’t even want your help!” Ron yelled, following her. It is evident that he wanted to fight, and he was not going to let her walk away peacefully.

“I’m not getting anything. What is it with you and everyone else that thinks you have to want something to take care of someone. The only thing I want is to give him a second chance; I want him to live and get to make his own choices.” She explained, trying to keep her voice calm and even. He smelt like the alcohol in his hand, and she tried to remember if it was his seventh or eight glass.

“That doesn’t make any sense?!”

“That is because you don’t care about anyone else.” Shaking her head, she turned down the corridor toward the infirmary.

“And you care about him?”

“Yes! I DO!” Hermione yelled, spinning on him, done with his whining.

He stopped, looking at the ground and making a sad face. Ron looked like a puppy that she had just kicked. Hermione knew him and knew that he was going to take it the wrong way.

“Oh- I see-” He simpered, turning around to walk away from her.

  
She’d wanted the fight to stop, but not to hurt his feelings. “Wait, no, it’s not like that, Ron?”

He didn’t turn around, and he rose his shoulders. Hermione could hear the anger in his voice, and she regretted even telling him where she was going.

“Then what is it, Hermione? You spend all your time with that man and not me. What am I supposed to think when you say you care for him.”

“I care about what happens to him. I didn’t say I love him.” Hermione pleaded, trying to get him to understand that he was taking things out of context.

Ronald Weasley turned around, closing the space between them so that his face was inches from hers. “Do you love me?”

“Most of the time.” She took a step back, smiling at him to try to get him to calm down.

He closed the space again, so close his hot breath washed over her face. “Do you love me.”

“I already answered you, Ron, back up.” She put her hands on his chest, backing him away.

Ron grabbed her hands, baring his teeth as he growled. “It is a yes or no answer, Hermione.”

“Well, if you are going to be an asshole, then I guess the answer is no.” She twisted her hands out of his and crossed her arms.

“You better stop joking before I get mad.” Ron barked, and she could see something in his eyes that made her want to get away from him quickly. He’d never hit her, but he’d been known to punch walls and throw things when he was this mad.

  
Hermione was not in the mood for one of his tantrums. “I’m not dealing with this; I have someplace to go.”

“Don’t you walk out on me for him.” He screamed.

“I’m not leaving you; I am going to take care of him, you daft moron.” She said over her shoulder, now walking with the determination to get away from him.

“You even sound like him now. Go, go on, be Snape’s little whatever you are, whore, whatever.”

Hermione froze midstep, anger flooding her face.

“What did you just call me?” She turned around, marching to him.

“I said go be Snape’s Whore.” His voice was not kind, and she wanted to wipe the look off his face.

Hermione put her face in his face this time. “RONALD WEASLEY, if you call me that again, I will-” 

His hand had stopped her as he grabbed her collar by the front. “You’ll what?”

She was worried that he’d gotten so drunk that he might hit her. 

Hermione pushed his hand away and took a step back, nearly whispering as she tried to calm down and diffuse the situation. “I will walk away and never come back.”

“Fine, go, you don’t love me anyway.” He waved his hands at her, gesturing for her to walk.

She decided that she was going to call his bluff, and she walked away, not willing to turn around now. “Fine. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, your new boyfriend is waiting.”

She put her hand on the door and had opened it when he had launched his last word. He thought she was too afraid to argue in front of Snape, but he was very wrong. 

Hermione opened the door and looked at him, challenging him with her eyes. “Also, Ron, before I forget, GO TO HELL!”

She stepped inside and slammed the door as loud as she could. She stood there for a few moments, her forehead on the door.

“100 points to Gryffindor, brava.” She heard Severus speak softly, and she slumped her shoulders, turning around to walk to his bed.

“I’m sorry, just, having a row, he’s drunk, again.” She offered, moving the table back to the side of the bed.

Severus gave her a sarcastic smile. “Ah, to be young and have poor taste in partners, I do not miss it.”

“I’m not exactly in the mood to be harassed, Severus.” Hermione huffed, setting her bag down in her chair. She looked at his side table. It looked like he had been reading the book she’d left for him. 

_Good… Severus was horrid when he’s been bored…_ She thought.

“Then, Granger, you’d better turn yourself around and go out the way you came, because all I have to offer is insults and complaints.” He spread his hand across his bed as if to show the bounty of his gifts.

“Then I suppose I shall take your dinner and your gift as well.” Hermione held up the tray of food she brought and tilted her head.

“If it suits you.” His face was impassive and unreadable. 

“Shut up, you know I wouldn’t deprive you of food. Sit up.” She said, moving his bed and pillows so that he could get into a comfortable position to eat. She made sure that he had back support before she moved to open her backpack.

“Oh, he’s got you so mad that you think you can boss me around.” Severus groused as she moved him, helping her where he could, but she still had to do most of the work.

“I think I can do that on my own.” She made sure that he had back support before she moved to open her backpack.

She could feel his eyes on her, and she ignored it, digging into the bag for what she’d gotten him. 

“It seems that Mr. Weasley has truly struck a nerve. May I ask what he said to you?”

“You don’t want to know,” Hermione warned, finding the box and pulling it out.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, leaning back against the pile of pillows. “Yes, because I love asking questions just for people not to answer them.”

“Sarcasm will do you no favors.” She quipped, moving back over to the bed.

“Alas, it is my native tongue.” With all the flair of an actor, he placed his hand palm upon his forehead.

“He called me your whore.” Hermione said with gritted teeth, trying not to get angry again.

The dramatics stopped as he sat up, fixing her with a stern gaze. “What?”

Hermione held the box up and repeated herself, not wanting to, but knowing he wanted more information. “Your whore. He intimated that I care for you and that you are my new boyfriend and that I am your whore.”

He was still for a moment, and then he suddenly leaned his head back, laughing loudly and deeply.

“Go ahead, laugh it up at my expense, I’m used to your cruelty by now,” Hermione sighed, getting his potions together that he had to take with his meal.

He laughed until he could no longer breath and leaned forward, waving his hand at her. “No-, no-, Granger-, forgive me-, I am not laughing at you, Hermione. I am laughing because that boy is so insecure that an invalid who cannot take over five steps without getting winded is threatening to him. That he thinks I have to stamina to seduce you and then do anything about it is beyond amusing.”

“Ah, yes, very funny,” Hermione grumbled, allowing him his fun. Even if it was at her expense, it was good to hear him laugh like that. 

“You don’t seem amused.” He stopped, his face going from humor to severe on a dime.

“Severus, he’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he is saying. In the morning, he will say he is sorry, and I will have to act like he never said it, even when he did. I don’t find it funny. I am not a whore, anyone’s whore, yours or otherwise.” She slammed the potion rack down the table, glad that they were unbreakable vials. The notion had pissed her off, and she didn’t think she would be over it any time soon.

“You are correct in that; I did not mean to demean you.” His tone was sincere, and she accepted it with a nod.

She gave him his first potion, letting him drink it down as she spoke. “And why can’t he accept that I can care for you, but it’s not like I am going to leave him for you.”

“Obviously.” He said as he made a sour face from drinking the potion.

She took that vial and handed him the next one. She was so angry and frustrated, and she wanted just to scream, but not at Severus. “And I know why he wanted to spend time, and frankly, I am not in the mood.”

He nearly choked on the potion, finishing it before answering her. “And the truth comes out. He’s lousy in the sack Ms. Granger, cannot get you where you are trying to go.”

His crudeness did not phase her; she rolled her eyes and shook her head. It wasn’t that; it was something else. “No, it is just that it feels like I’m not even a participant. It feels more like he is doing it to me than having it with me.”

“I see-, that sounds uncomfortable.” He said, taking the last potion, the mint of it meant to help from the previous two’s taste.

“Merlin, why am I talking to you about this?” Hermione asked, realizing that this wasn’t someone she would naturally have this conversation with.

“I was about to ask the same thing.” He gave her a sly smile and an eye quirk as he handed her the last vial.

“Forgive me, open your present while I set up your dinner; it should still be warm.” Hermione handed him the box and got his meal uncovered for him.

He took it into his hands, looking at it and then back to her. There was something to his expression, but she didn’t know what it was. “You did not have to get me a gift, Granger.”

  
She pointed a knife at him while she talked, putting a hand on her hip. “It is Christmas Severus, everyone deserves something and to not be alone on Christmas.”

“There is something wrong with you, Granger,” Severus said as he began to unwrap his present.

“I’ve been told, several times in fact.”

  
It was a new wizarding chessboard since the one they’d been playing on that met its untimely end on one of his rampages. Hermione had missed playing with him, and she knew he also did. The regret he’d show that day, once the pain was subsided, had been very transparent.

“It is a thoughtful gift. You know they will not let me take this to Azkaban.” He whispered, running his fingers over the pieces.

“You are not going to Azkaban!” She yelled, slamming her fist down on the table.

He looked at her, a sad look in his eyes. “Granger, please stop deluding yourself.”

“I am not. It is you who are deluded. You are going to get pardoned.” She snarled, going back to making sure his food was warm.

“And you will fall madly in love with me and leave Mr. Weasley.” He responded.

  
She stopped, tilting her head at him. “What?”

He smiled at her, putting the wizarding chessboard on his end table. “I thought we were talking about things that were not going to happen; I was using your predicament.”

Hermione gave a small laugh and pushed the tray so that it was over his lap. “Shut up, Severus, and eat your pudding.”


	17. New Lows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Severus had been so mad all day, and he did not have the willpower to restrain himself. He had given all his classes writing assignments with the strict order of no talking. He was afraid of what he would do or say otherwise.

 _How dare she…_ Severus caught himself thinking all day.   
_How dare she, after what her son put Hermione through, come at me… Tell me that I wasn’t good enough…_

During his planning period, he had written several replies, all to be thrown in the trash and discarded. He was too angry to talk, to do anything other than stew and think. Severus was trying his best not to think because if he did, it would take him back to a place that he didn’t want to be. To a night, he didn’t wish to remember, even though he’d never been able to forget it.

When the night came around, and he sat in his office trying to grade papers, it was impossible to keep him from going back to that place.

Hermione had given into Molly’s insistence that she take the day off from watching Severus with the promise that Molly would watch him herself.

At first, it wasn’t an issue for Severus, he would do what he did when it wasn’t Hermione and read a book. Or insult the person until they left, however, Molly Weasley was not likely to give on that front, so he would read the book he’d been brought. Hermione had been kind in making sure that when she could not be there that he had something to occupy his mind.

“Ron is going to propose to her tonight,” Molly said offhandedly, and Severus looked at her, raising his eyebrow.

“How perfect for him, Mrs. Weasley.” He replied snorting. He knew the girl was going to say no, they’d just had a discussion about how she was thinking of breaking it off with him.

She was knitting, and she waved her hand over his bed. “I thought you should know so that you would be prepared when this all came to an end.”

“What precisely are you blathering on about?” The woman was making no sense, but then again, he wasn’t sure that she did all that often anyway.

Molly fixed him with a stare and spoke in a hushed tone. “This thing you’ve got going on with the girl. Your ‘affair’.”

“I beg your pardon?” Severus put his book down, his shoulders straightening as he glared at her.

“Don’t think I am stupid, Severus. She is a beautiful girl, and you are a man who has been stuck in a bed with only her for company. I was only a matter of time before-” Molly said it as if she were talking about a garden, not insulting him and Hermione.

He interrupted her, his fist clenched. “I would choose your next words very carefully, madam.”

“Before you two started sleeping together. She is young and likely wanted to have more experience before she married Ron, and you are desperate. It isn’t shameful.”

Severus could not believe what he was hearing. This woman, who had not so much as asked him how he was in nearly a year, was demeaning him, insulting the woman who was busting her ass to save him and acting like she was gossiping about the weather. He felt a wash of anger rush up over him, starting behind his ears.

  
“Mrs. Weasley, get out.” He spoke as calmly as he could, holding his duvet in clenched fists.

  
Molly seemed to be not phased at all. She continued knitting, not even looking at him.

 _Was she honestly that shameless…_ Severus could not fathom what he was being held party to.

  
“Now, I promised her I was going to make sure you are safe, and I shall. I just wanted you to know that when she tells you it is over, so you don’t go mental and try to stop her.” Molly intoned.

He grit his teeth, closing his eyes as his chest began to feel tight with the unchecked rage. “I have limited patience, Molly, and you are very close to pushing me over it. Get. Out.”

Still, she did not move, she did not act like she was concerned at all. Either she was ignorant of how much he had recovered, or she did not think he was capable of harming her.

“You don’t have to be upset. I am doing you a favor. You knew this wasn’t going to be something that lasted. What kind of life could you give her? You just earned your freedom, on her hard-work. You have to start all over again.” The knitting needled in her hands kept moving, and she kept talking.

He could feel his throat burning. “Get. Out.” He repeated, trying to not yell, to not throw something at her.

“And you know what they will say, they will say something was going on before she was of age and it will be a scandal. You don’t want people thinking that she was your whore or something?”

He snapped his head at her, giving her a look that could melt glass. “Miss Granger is no one’s whore, mine, your son’s or anyone else’s.”

She had the audacity to smile at this, nodding her head as if he had agreed. Severus felt like he had smoke coming out of his ears and that he was going to explode.

“Exactly. I know you must care for the girl, she’s been so kind. But a man of your age and background should really think about what a relationship between the two of you would mean. Could you see her being happy, really happy with you?”

“Molly.” He growled.

She pointed a needle at him, giving him a pointed stare. “No, answer me, do you want her to be happy or not?”

Perhaps if he answered her, she would leave and would not need to strangle her with his sheet. He had feelings for the girl, not the sort that had romance attached to them, but there was a camaraderie. He wanted nothing for her but the best, because she was a miracle worker and had somehow saved his very soul.

“Miss Granger deserves all the happiness in the world.”

“So we are agreed. I just need you to make sure that if something goes wrong and she tells Ron no, because of some silly fling, that you remind her that she loves Ron and that it’s what's best for her.”

This did not sit right with Severus, there was something this woman was getting at. She didn’t look afraid, perhaps because she had a reason. _Why was she so adamant that Hermione marries Ron?_

“Why are you trying to force her to marry your son?” He asked her, trying to temper the rage with logic. It was a long shot, but he had to try if only to not end up arrested.

  
She was the one who looked offended now as if he had insulted her. “I’m not forcing anything? They are meant to be? You can’t possibly think you can compete with that. You have to know that you are not good enough for her.”

That was it. Severus turned to her, screaming. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

“Severus, honestly,” Molly yelled like she was chiding one of her children.

Severus had no patience for her any longer. He did not have to sit there and listen to her demean him. He swung his legs out of bed, reaching for his cane. “If you do not get out of this room, I will give them a reason to send me to Azkaban woman.”

“You aren’t meant to be out of bed.’ She said, standing up to try to push him back into the bed.

He swung the cane at her. First hitting her in the shoulder and then poked her, forcing her out of his space as he screamed again, standing up. “GET! OUT!”

He was shaky and angry, and if she didn’t get out of his sight, he was going to see how much wandless magic he still had in him at the moment.

She must have been able to sense the rage finally, looking into his eyes. She snatched her things, moving to the door. “Merlin, you are insane, fine, fall, hurt yourself. It won’t matter, once she and Ron are married she won’t be coming to care for you. She’ll have a husband to watch after. Remember Severus, you will ruin her life if you keep her to yourself.”

He picked up the book that Hermione had left for him and threw it at her as hard as possible. “OUT!”

She ran, closing the door.

And then there was silence. Severus sat down on the bed, holding his head and trembling from the effort of getting up.

Molly was right. He knew that Hermione had started falling for him. He’d seen it in her eyes, she was a terrible occlude. Severus had indulged in his fondness for the girl because he was confident he would never see her again after the trial. That he’d never see a beautiful face again. While they had never done anything remotely romantic or sexual in nature, they had a certain level of intimacy that was definitely more than patient and nurse.

He shook his head, trying to temper the rage with the sudden anguish. She was going to turn Ron down. He knew it. She’d come back here, tell him and then what? What did she want? What did he want?

What kind of life could he give her? She deserved a chance; she was young, beautiful, intelligent, kind, witty, and wise. She was brave and wild and took what she wanted and changed the world.

He could not give her a life where she could still be all of those things. Even if he fully recovered, she’d still feel compelled to care for him. And his recovery could take all of her youthful years from her. She was still so young. And that meant that she would make dumb choices. Even as smart as she was, Hermione couldn’t possibly know what she wanted, what she truly wanted.

He was a fancy, she’d eventually come to resent him and leave him after realizing he could not keep up with her. But that didn’t mean he wanted her to marry the Weasley boy. He was everything she wasn’t, and she deserved someone who worshiped the ground she walked on, not someone who would call her names and get drunk and yell at her.

“Severus, I heard yelling and just saw Mrs. Weasley leaving. Are you alright?” Minerva asked, walking into the door.

“I am just fine.” He snarled, the rage instantly coming back as he was drawn from his thoughts.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Severus to have to push her away and wasn’t fair for him to try to keep her or even let her stay. Why had the world given him this cruel decision?

“What happened?”

“Minerva, please.”

“I’ll just sit over here, Severus, in case you need anything. Hermione will not be pleased if she comes here, and you are alone.”

“Miss Granger will not be pleased if she comes here either way.”

  
Severus had to stop himself. He couldn’t let himself sink into that pit. He could feel the anger still, he could again hear her words and how cocksure of herself she was. Molly Weasley had successfully ruined four lives that night. He didn’t think he could forgive her for it, even with his current practice of forgiveness.

He would regret that night for the rest of his life.

  
“Man-Shaped Serpent.”

Severus looked up, and the fresco Medusa was in the empty portrait on his wall.

“She is on the balcony sobbing in the snow. Her watcher has left her alone. I heard her scream. You should see that my charge is safe.”

All thoughts of Molly and her irritation was gone. Severus felt a cold wash of worry, overcome him, and he was running. The Medusa was already going, likely rushing back to her post to open the door for him. He was running, he didn’t care who saw him. If she’d slipped into a depressive state, she could quickly become suicidal from what she’d suffered.

He didn’t have to wait, the door was already open to him, and he skid to a stop as he heard her yelling out to the world and no one at the same time.

“I wasn’t good enough for Ron, as a wife, as a friend, I wasn’t good enough to be a mother. All I’m good for is my brain, and even then, only when someone needs something.”

His chest ached with pain. The way she was speaking, she truly believed those words. Severus walked closer to her being quiet as to not disturb her. He understood the feeling of being used, and his heart ached from her pained words.

“I’ve never been good enough, not for Molly, or the World. I’m wasted space with a brilliant mind. Most brilliant witch, but not good enough for anything else.”

Molly's mention let a small flame of fire up, but it was squashed with her admission that she felt like she wasn’t good enough for anything at all. She was so many things, and she couldn’t even see it. He’d made it to the door frame without her even noticing him. Severus leaned against the door, waiting for her to sense him.

“Why did I get to survive when he didn’t even get a chance to live. Why couldn’t Ron have just killed me then too? Why do I get to go on living when I don’t deserve to!”

_Had he screamed those same words at her once, so long ago? Hadn’t she been the beacon that willed him to live on, even when he did not deserve to? It was long past time to be that for her._

He cleared his throat and answered her softly. Hearing her wish that she was dead had put a chokehold on his throat, so he wasn’t sure he could manage more than a whisper.

“A wise woman once told me, when I asked that same question, that it was so I could do everything again, on my own terms.”

Her startled sound confirmed that she’d not noticed him come inside. He looked at her, those dark honey eyes red and so full of pain. He felt like he’d failed her, even when he’d been trying to do then what he thought was best.

“I’m sorry,” She began apologizing, wiping her eyes and rising. “I didn’t hear you come in. I- I would have come inside.”

He couldn’t stand how she kept saying sorry like her very existence was inexcusable. He wanted to embrace her, and it bothered her that it was his first response, but he was very emotionally upset. He settled with putting his hand on her shoulder, trying to coax her.

“Shut up, Granger,” Severus said quietly, trying to see if it had the same effect it had all those years ago.

She looked at him, deeply looked at him, and he could feel her searching for something. Opening himself to her gaze and her mind, all he felt from her was desperation, pain, guilt, and she was looking for something to save her, some kind of hope that she wasn’t the worst person in existence. She wanted to be absolved of her child’s death, of her failed marriage. More than anything, in those soul-searching eyes, she just wanted to feel like she was worthy of something.

He couldn’t hold her gaze any longer, his own emotions threatening to spill forth and further complicate things. Turning from her and those eyes, he saw the vacated chair where Mrs. Potter was supposed to be. “I suppose you used that brilliant mind to convince Mrs. Potter to give you time to yourself?”

“She was tired, and I can handle giving myself pain potions.” She was trembling, and her lips had started to go pale.

“And pneumonia, too, it seems,” Severus said, wishing that he’d been here sooner. He cast a warming spell over her and looked at her hair, seeing how the snowflakes had settled like small flowers in her brown locks.

“I-”

Severus interrupted her, stopping her from going on another spree of apology.

“If you say sorry, I will tell you to shut up again? Come inside.”

Severus ran his hand down her arm, catching her elbow gently. He was drawn to touch her right now, to console her, to ease her worries. But he knew, inside, that it was not what she needed, she needed his strength, not his poor comforting skills. She gave no resistance as he led her to her chair, and he took his opposite of her.

Flicking his wand, he raised the fire, needing to make sure that she was warmer. He would not have her getting sick after just recovering from an injury. Severus rubbed his nose as he realized that he had to come to terms with some things very fast. Whether or not Molly Weasley had meant to, her letter had evoked feelings and thoughts that he’d spent years trying to ignore. He’d thought he’d abandoned them, left them for dead like any hope that they would mean something.

And this could complicate things. His goal had been to fix her for herself so that she could move on. So that she could have a second chance to do things on her terms. He’d have to ensure his emotions did not conflict with that.

He could feel her staring at him, and he let out a soft breath, saying her name with it. “Hermione, I brought you a gift. Something that I think might help you, as it has helped me immensely as of late. I’d actually planned to give it to you after we’d been to Hogsmeade, but other circumstances prevented me from doing so.”

He pulled the box out of his jacket, as he’d been planning on dropping it off tonight before he went to sleep. Severus was hesitant, thinking that she’d possibly not like it.

“Thank you.” She took it from him, and he returned his eyes to the fire, listening to her open it and flip through the pages.

  
“It’s a journal. You’ve been through a lot, and I thought you might like a safe place to let it all out.”

His journal would have a lot to say about today. Since he’d started his research, he’d come across journaling as a way of letting go. Now that he was no longer a spy and had no fears of one side using him against the other, he’d given himself permission to have one. It’d been beneficial so far in his own growth, and since he knew that she had once had a planner, he wanted to give her a chance to use it as well.

“She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes?” She whispered, and Severus wondered if he heard her correctly.

  
“What?”

She held the book up and pointed to where it said the phrase she’d just recited. “That’s what it says, see?”

He had not noticed it when he’d bought it. It suited her, but he hadn’t planned on it. “So it does. I must have missed that when I purchased it. I thought you might like blue rather than a black one, and there was no way I was buying a Gryffindor scarlet one.”

Severus watched as she cradled it to her chest like a prized possession. A surge of affection moved through him. He had to ignore it, he had to focus on the reason for his even being here. Anything else would be taking advantage of her vulnerable emotional state. Severus knew that he had to act as if those feelings did not exist.

“I love it, thank you. It was very thoughtful.”

The fire was his focus as he offered her sincere advice. “If you keep bottling up the pain, Hermione, it will turn you bitter and angry or destroy you. Take that as advice from a living example. I would advise that you write about what you are feeling rather than crying yourself into a panic. Be honest with yourself, even if you cannot be with others. I spelled it so that it would only open for you.”

She did not answer him, and he said no more, focusing on the fire. Severus had a million things he wanted to say, he desired to tell her that he was sorry for failing her, sorry she’d ended up here in the first place.

Severus caught himself up in his mind, wondering what would have happened if he’d not listened to Molly. He knew in his heart that she would have stayed by his side, at least until he healed. Maybe she would have gone off and seen the world, perhaps she would have become a professor. He knew for a fact that she’d not have become a victim of Ron's. Had he had contact with her, if their friendship had remained, he would have murdered anyone who dared lay a hand on her. He would have protected her fire with all the power he had in his being.

In his thoughts, he did not realize how long it had been since a word was spoken. He was so wrapped up in everything, all the turmoil that wrecked him. He knew it was late, he had expected to be in bed already by now. As if his plans ever went accordingly.

  
“Hermione.” He whispered, getting her attention, but still kept his eyes on the fire. “I think it would serve you to get some sleep tonight. I will be sleeping in my quarters, as I no longer fear you falling and hurting yourself. If anything happens, I expect you to come to wake me or send for me.”

He had to leave before he sunk himself into a depressive mood. Severus knew he would be no use to her if he was wrapped up in his own feelings. He stood, moving for the door.

  
“I will if something happens. Good night.” He heard her promise.

Severus got to the door and couldn’t leave her there with the thoughts that she was not good enough. She was the worthiest person he knew.

Severus met her eyes, seeing her there in the firelight.

“You were never the unworthy one, Hermione. It was Ron, who was not good enough for you.”

He let the door shut before he could say more, or she could say something to him. “I am the world’s second-biggest idiot.” He breathed, heading to his rooms. He had a lot to write and not a lot of time to do it.

* * *

Severus had tried to keep his distance all week from Hermione. He needed to get everything in check, he needed to establish his own boundaries and make sure he didn’t do something so utterly stupid that he sent her spiraling.

However, distance did not stop him from doing something for her every day. He’d arranged for chocolates to make it to her desk via Queenie. He’d ordered her a book that he knew would thrill her and keep her up reading. He had Queenie make sure to bring her waffles for breakfast and that all her students knew that she had had a lousy weekend and that if he so much as heard the were giving her trouble, they would get detention with filch.

His determination to bring her inner spark back did not waver; it had to be more secretive. But now that the students had gone, he still had one major point in his plan that he needed to have her in one place. He’d followed her to the train station, his eyes watching every face and person that came anywhere near her. He had his wand ready because if somehow, she was threatened, he would hurt someone.

Now he needed to find her again. It wasn’t that hard; he could feel where she was. He found her standing in the nearly empty great hall, looking at the windows with a soft smile on her face. He felt warm inside at seeing it.

“Professor Granger.” He decided that some formality could cause some distance, but not enough to alienate her.

Her face was confused as she turned to look at him. “Yes, Professor Snape?”

“Minerva and I will be attending to important matters tomorrow morning. As such, I was asked if you would be willing to take rounds and ensure that students still here don’t get into trouble.”

“Of course, Severus, is there something wrong?”

Of course, she would think something was wrong. “No, it is a board meeting before the hols begin. How has your head been?” He inquired, looking at her.

Her skin looked bright, eyes not as sunken. Severus could tell that she was still getting her two potions as she looked rested and not like she was starving herself.

“I have been well.”

He bowed at her respectfully. Her face told him that she was perplexed and still very much concerned. He would need to deviate the conversation to keep her from asking more questions.

“We also begin work on my project on Monday. If you still think you are capable of assisting.”

A dumbstruck look came over her face, and she paused before answering. “Yes, of course, I had slipped my mind.”

“I can forgive that. Please be in the potions classroom at 8.”

“I will see you there.”

“Until then.” He turned and left as quickly as possible. If she had any inkling about what they were about to do, it would ruin everything.

He returned to Minerva’s office, sitting slowly into her chair. “She has agreed. You can make it that she cannot leave the castle once you deputize her, correct.”

Her face was tired, and she pinched her nose. “Yes, I can. Are you sure that this will work Severus, I have no desire to be caught up in the madness.”

“Minerva, if Potter, Weasley, and Granger can do it, why wouldn’t the two of us, who have years more experience, be able to.” He offered, sighing and taking one of her biscuits.

“Because they have dumb luck on their side.”

“And I have contacts on the inside.” Severus smiled, relaxing now that the hardest part was done.

“Very well. I shall see you in the morning.”

She waved him out of her office as she had paperwork to do before they went off on their expedition.

Severus stood at her desk, leaning on it and imploring her for faith in him. “Minerva, trust me.”

“Severus, I do, or else you’d need to find someone else.”

* * *

Getting her wand had been easier than he had expected. Severus thought perhaps he needed to instill a bit more wariness of him in her, as she was absolutely trusting of him. The memory he’d implanted in her made her believe she had her wand after they’d left. It wasn’t anything but an insertion, and it would keep her looking around and not have her doing anything else in the castle.

“Peeves, you are in charge. If anyone comes in here to hurt Granger, you get all the ghosts, and you give them all the hell you can.” Minerva said, looking at the ghost. He false saluted her.

“Yes, Headmistress! Peeves will give all the hell he has.”

  
They walked to the three broomsticks, where they were greeted by Neville and Hannah. “Everything is ready upstairs. We will leave the floo open, so if you need to make a quick exit, come here.” Hannah Longbottom said nervously.

“I will be watching the village and the castle entrance. If someone thinks they are getting to Hermione, they will have to go through me.” Neville said proudly.

Severus gave him an approving nod, and he and Minerva went into the small apartment that the Longbottom's used. He locked the doors, and Minerva looked at him with apparent nerves.

“Severus, it is so long that I have done something like this, please forgive me if I have a hard time stomaching it.”

“It tastes horrible, I can hardly stand it.” He offered, pulling out two vials with a dark grey sludge in it. He carefully placed a single red hair into one and a long brown curly hair into the other. He handed the second one to Minerva, and he tipped back the first one.

He had to stop himself from gagging as it slid down his throat. He began to unbutton the buttons on his frockcoat as the changes started. The elevation changed as he shrunk several inches, and his shoulders broadened out. He was able to get the coat off before he busted a seam.

Minerva seemed to be having similar issues. Severus turned from facing her as he began to strip his clothes off down to his trouser shorts. On the table was an outfit that he would never in his life dream of wearing. Pulling it on, he tried to not think about whose skin he was wearing.

“Are you dressed?” He asked, and even the sound of the voice he used made him angry.

“A moment, I am not used to this body.” He heard Hermione’s voice coming from McGonagall. “There, decent now.”

Severus reached into his coat pocket and handed Minerva Hermione’s wand. He pulled out Ron’s wand and the piece of paper that Draco had sent with his father at the Prophet meeting.

“This is a bit harsh, but I want to punch you in the face.” Minerva said, looking at him with a glare.

“Minerva, I would gladly let you if we did not have pressing matters at hand.” He glanced at the mirror that was over the mantle, and Ronald Weasley’s face looked back.

“This is the lowest point in my career.”

He huffed, making sure he had everything he would need for this. They would be leaving their own wands behind, having to rely on borrowed wands, which made him uncomfortable. He pulled the cannons hoodies hood up over his head and tightened the string.

Looking at the clock, he nodded. It was time. They had four hours to get in, get what they needed, and get back before the potion would wear out. He was fortunate to have a friend at Ravensdorm who had a student doing a thesis on polyjuice. Without it, he'd still be waiting two weeks for Slughorn’s brew, and they did not have that kind of time.

“Minerva, one more thing, before we do this.” He tried to look serious in this goofy looking frame.

“Yes, Severus,” Minerva said through Hermione’s eyes.

“Anything I do is not me. If I do something that actually scares you, or hurts you, I want you to tell me.”

There was worry in her tone. “How.”

“We will have a safeword. Something easy to say and to remember. I suggest we use ‘Lemondrop’ as crass as that sounds.”

“I agree, I will never forget that word.”

“Then we go. Remember, act like you are putting on a brave face but are still deeply upset. When we get to Lugkoff, tell him that you had to stop by to thank him for being so helpful in the past. Then we are going to start work. Lucius has the Ministry covered, and Draco is at Gringott’s on business matters, so we will have some form of back up if something goes awry.”

She nodded, pulling the face on, and Severus nodded, grabbing her arm and moving into the floo. “Gringott’s bank.”

  
He kept his head down, his hand on her shoulder as she walked like she was both a prisoner and his guide. Minerva was dutifully acting like a frightened Granger who was trying to move like everything was normal.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley, how lovely to see you, how can Gringott’s help you today?” He heard a goblin say, and Severus gave her a little shove with his hand.

“I’d like to see Lugkoff if he is in.”

“And your companion, ma’am is he to go with you.” The Goblin was obviously suspicious.

“He’s here for my protection, with everything going on.”

“Ah yes, I understand ma’am. Right, this way.”

Severus could see the Goblin get down from his podium and lead then into a private room. Severus did not sit down, crossing his arms as Minerva played her part perfectly.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you for how much you were helping me when I worked at the Ministry. Since you were so helpful before, I was hoping I could get some help from you now?”

“It is my pleasure Mrs. Granger-Weasley. What can I help you with today.” The Goblin asked, looking between Minerva and Severus.

“I want to go over all of my husband's accounts and start separating mine and his.”

“I would love to help you ma’am, but you cannot make those changes without Mr. Weasley present, and he is-”

“Right here,” Severus said in a huff, lifting the hood and taking a seat, looking as petulant as possible.

“But- how-, ma’am should I call for security.” Lugkoff looked concerned, his eyes wild.

“No, he here under an agreement so that we can make our divorce as seamless as possible,” Minerva said, easing the tension in the room.

Severus threw his hands around sloppily, leaning back in the chair like he was already bored. “Feel free to take your time, I’m only out of that box long enough to help her out.”

“Ah, I see, do you both have your wands?”

“Yea, here it is,” Severus said, throwing it at the Goblin without much care.

Minerva glared at him in Hermione’s body as she handed Lugkoff her wand. “Here is mine, thank you so much.”

“It is my pleasure, you have done so much for Gringotts, you know that we value you as a customer. I will have to, of course, ensure that you are, in fact, who you say you are.”

Severus sighed, leaning forward, pointing at the Goblin. He used his most frustrated tone he could get with this voice. “Look, you know who we are, if you don’t believe us by seeing us, get my brother in here. I know Bill is working right now. He’ll know it’s us in a second.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose I can do that, as Mr. Weasley is one of our curse breakers.” The Goblin pulled a copper cone to his mouth. “Please have Mr. Weasley come to room 3.”

They waited for an inordinately long time. Severus tapped on the desk, shifting his position every few minutes and wondering what the delay was. They were given the wands back, and he tucked it into the sleeve.

Minerva was sitting there, looking rightly embarrassed, and tried to make as little eye contact as possible.

Finally, the door opened, and Bill Weasley walked in, his face instantly dropping. “The hell are you doing here?”

“This Goblin wants to know if I am really me or not.”

“Mione, are you alright?” Bill asked, coming to stand next to Minerva.

“Hello Bill, I’m fine. He’s here to split our accounts and start making this mess a little easier to clean up. Can you check us over to make sure we are us so we can get this done and I can get away from him.”

Bill looked at her for a moment and then nodded, running his wand over them. Severus gave Bill a cheeky grin, and Bill glared at him,

“If I wasn’t at work and Hermione wasn’t here, I would be hexing that off your face.” Bill grit, and he looked at Minerva, giving her a soft nod.

“Yea, you and half of London. Am I me or not?”

“You are Ronald Weasley, my son of a git brother. Lugkoff, this is both them, let them do what they need.” Bill said, and he pointed at Severus. “If he does anything toward her, you hit the alarm, and I will take care of him myself.”

“Not if I get to him first, sir.” Lugkoff said, and they both glared at Severus.

He leaned his head back and crossed his arms behind his head, smiling at them.

“Very, well, we have confirmed your identity, may I have your password.”

Minerva recited an arithmancy formula, and Severus pawed around in his pockets, grumbling. He pulled out a piece of paper that Draco had gotten to him at the Prophet meeting and read it lazily.

“Cannons4Life” _Merlin, Weasley really was an idiot…_

“Yes, those are correct. Now, how are we dividing all this.”

“I want my own accounts, I don’t want to deal with her nagging me over having access to her money,” Severus said with a growl, his hand coming down on the desk.

“I see, I can do that for you, Weasley. And you, Mrs. Granger-Weasley.” The Goblin asked, looking at Minerva softly.

“I want all his access to my accounts revoked,” Minerva said quietly as she winced away from Severus at his display.

The Goblin bowed his head, writing down her requests. “Of course, ma’am. How are we dividing the funds already in the account.”

“She gets her salary and earnings from her patents and whatever is left of her order of merlin money. I get my salary and my earnings from my investments.” Severus barked, glaring at her wand-waving his hand at her.

Minerva whispered quietly to Lugkoff as if she were afraid to say it aloud. “I’d like a copy of the accounts to see where the money is being spent.”

“I didn’t agree with that, Hermione.” Severus snapped at her, glaring.

Minerva looked proper frightened. _He would have to get her something special for this._

“Weasley, she will get what she asked for,” Lugkoff said, writing another note and pointedly turning to ignore him.

Severus shook his head, getting to his feet and yelling. “You goblins only kiss her ass because she made you guys more like equals to us.”

“They are equals Ron! Can we please just get this done.” Minerva roared, looking at him like he was the biggest idiot.

He slumped into the chair again, rolling his eyes. “Yea, yea, just let’s get this over with.”

“Anything else Ma’am?”

Minerva looked exhausted, sighing. “Any of his withdraws that he has come out monthly need to go to his account and mine need to stay with me.”

Lugkoff looked over some forms and smiled wickedly, looking at Severus as he spoke. “And what of Mr. Weasley’s second account and withdrawals.”

Severus hadn’t known there was a second account, this could be where the money had gone missing.

“I’m sorry, what?” Minerva was angry and looked at Severus like she was going to cry.

Severus pointed in her face, baring his teeth. “That is mine, it’s not for you to take Hermione.”

“You had a second account and other withdrawals? For how long?” She cried, looking betrayed and angry.

“I said it is none of your business, what does it matter to you anyways.” He snapped again, slamming his hand on the arm of the chair.

“The account was started 4 years ago, it gets two monthly deposits and one monthly payment out.” Lugkoff offered, glaring at Weasley.

“What is it about,” Minerva asked, glaring at Severus.

“The payment goes to Ms. M. Anadora’s personal account, and the deposits come from your primary accounts, ma’am. 500 hundred galleons a month.”

Minerva and Severus’s eyes met, and something dark passed between them.

“What have you been sending her that kind of money for?” She cried, her face looking heartbroken.

Severus could not bear to look at Hermione’s face like that, even when it wasn’t her. He still had a part to play, however. He huffed in anger, glaring at her as he spoke slowly and dangerously. “It’s nothing to do with you?”

“But it is our money.”

He laughed a cruel laugh in her face. “Our money, ha, you are leaving, it’s in my name, it’s my account.”

The Goblin cleared his throat once more. “Actually, you had made this an account under your shared account, so it will belong to Mrs. Granger-Weasley.”

“This is absurd.” He said, getting up and leaning over the desk threateningly.

“Weasley, please give me a reason to show you how much your equal I am.” Lugkoff said, glaring.

“May I have a transcript of that account, please,” Minerva asked quietly.

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to ruin while you are at it.”

Lugkoff seemed to look through the files and shake his head. “I believe we have covered all the accounts. I will get you a copy of those statements, and then you may be able to leave.”

“Mr. Lugkoff, could you do one more thing for me, please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Stop all payments to Ms. Anadora.”

“You can’t do that, Hermione,” Severus whined, kicking his foot angrily.

“Why not?”

“Because those are important payments!”

“Not important enough to tell me about. If you want to keep paying your mistress, do it on your funds.” Minerva said, trying to put on a false front as Hermione.

“It will be as you say ma’am,” Lugkoff said, taking a large pile of parchment and shrinking it down. He handed it explicitly to Minerva.

Severus could tell him that the Goblin threatening him to make a move.

Standing, Severus pulled the hoodie over his head and tightened it. He grabbed Minerva by the arm, yanking her up harshly. “We’re done, let’s go. I’m sick of being in here.”

“Wait a moment, Ron.” She said, getting to her feet.

“Remove your hand,” Lugkoff said, pointing a wand at Severus.

Minerva put her hands up, looking at the Goblin with pleading eyes. “Please don’t, just let me get him back to the ministry, it’s okay.”

“I can send an escort with you,” Lugkoff said, not lowering the wand.

Minerva pleaded with him again. “I can handle it myself.”

It was at her pleading that he lowered the wand. “Mrs. Granger-Weasley, if he makes a move in here, we can take care of him.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Alright, you’ve talked enough, let’s going Mione.” Severus snarled, pulling her toward the door. She made a squeak and got in front of him. “Walk.”

Minerva sighed and lifted her chin, walking out of the room. They walked through the crowd, and it seemed that everyone was looking at them. Severus had a bad feeling about it.

“Hermione, is that you?” Draco shouted, running up to them.

_Shit, something had gone wrong._

“Yes, Hi, hello, Draco.”

“I have to get you to Hogwarts now, Ron Weasley escaped the ministry.”

This was not part of the plan. It was time to improvise.

He pushed her forward with a shove, his hand tight as he could make it look without hurting Minerva. “We need to go now.”

“Hey, stop pushing her, who the hell are you,” Draco growled, following him to the floo’s and pointing his wand under the hood.

“Wrong move ferret,” Severus said in Ron’s voice, throwing his hood back and glaring at him.

“Shit, Hermione, move,” Draco said, pointing his wand at Severus.

 _He’s really escaped, my dad needs you both at the Ministry as Ron and Hermione, now!…._ Draco share via occulmency, Severus opening up to him.

“Not a chance Draco,” Severus said, wrapping his arm tightly around Minerva and flinging them back into the fire.

  
“Ministry floor 2.”

“Oh thank Circe. You two need to make a diversion while I figure out how the little shit actually got out.” Lucius said as they tumbled into the room.

Severus slammed his hand on the floor as he kept himself from crushing Minerva under him.

“I was about to say Lemondrop,” Minerva said as they got to their feet. Severus looked at these pale hands, feeling very uncomfortable with how strong they were.

“What kind of diversion?”

“I don’t know, go have a row.”

“And then what if I get hit with a spell, Lucius?” Severus asked, shaking his head.

“Here, it’s a deflector, wear it, but I want it back,” Lucius said, uncuffing a silver cuff and handing it to Severus. Severus tucked it under the hoodie and clasped it, feeling the magical shield.

Severus turned to Minerva, exhaling sharply.

“Are you prepared for this?”

Minerva looked disoriented and not okay, but he knew that they had to figure this out before Ron Weasley got a chance to get out of the building.

“Okay, just for the love of merlin, don’t hit me full force, if you have to hit me,” Minerva said, Hermione’s face taking on the severe gaze of meaning business.

“Follow me,” Severus said, leaving the room and marching.

“Severus, you look like yourself like that. Ron slouches and strolls.” Minerva called, and Severus sighed.

He let his shoulders loosen up and slowed down, shaking his head.

“This is the lowest point in my career.”

“I can agree with that.”

They turned the corner, and he turned around to look at her. He saw people at the end of the hall, I was showtime. He got in Minerva’s face, yelling. He knew just the topic that Ron would bitch about too.

“I knew you were fucking him, I knew it. That’s why you are leaving, so you can go be with that git?”

Minerva looked surprised, and she jumped back, holding her hands up. It was perfect. “I don’t know what you are talking about, how did you even get out?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, come the fuck on Hermione, do you think I am stupid. You’ve been after Snape since you brought him back to life.” Severus snarled, waving his hands back and forth aggressively as he spoke.

“You are wrong,” Minerva whispered, and he could hear that it was the truth. Minerva knew what plot they were playing.

“Am I? Isn’t that why you are in the castle and don’t go anywhere without him?”

“He’s trying to keep me safe.”

“From what Hermione, from what?” Severus was so close to her face that he could see the fear in those eyes.

Minerva squeaked, pressing her hands against his chest, trying to get the distance. “From you.”

“Well, where is he now then, saving you from me.” He grabbed her hands, keeping her from pulling away.

“At Hogwarts.”

He smiled wickedly. “It's a long way from here, Hermione, and you are trapped here with me.”

Severus’s chest was hurting because even as he was playing a part, it was still him saying this to Hermione’s form. He had to do this, he had to make sure that Lucius found Weasley.

There was a stir starting around them as people began running to get Aurors.

“Ron, don’t do something you will regret,” Minerva whispered fearfully.

“I already did when I let you get away from me last time.” This was a moment he would have to commit to, and he wrinkled his eyes, trying to let her know what was going on. He slapped her, trying to make it look hard without actually knocking Minerva’s head off.

“Shit, that hurt.” Minerva grabbed her face, cowering away from him.

“It was supposed to.” Severus laughed, grabbing at her by the collar and bringing her up to his face.

Minerva whispered, and he could see that Minerva was angry as hell. “You are a fucking monster.”

“I am what you created me to be.”

  
Severus heard running coming up behind him, and he still didn’t let her go, holding her on her tiptoes.

“Oi, what the hell, shit, get Potter.” One voice yelled.

He heard Harry speaking, his voice going closer. “I’m already here, let her the fuck go.”

“Come on, Harry, be a mate and just walk away?”

“I’m not your mate, now let her go.”

Severus threw her to the side and held his hands up, turning toward Potter.

“Happy?”

“Turn around and walk down the hallway back to your cell, before I have to hurt you, Weasley.”

Severus did as he was told, turning and walking with Potter at his back. The crowd seemed satisfied that Harry Potter had it taken care of, and they went back to work.

Once they got back to the fireplace, Severus was trying to think of a way to convince Harry that he was, in fact, Severus.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, thank you so much,” Lucius said, walking up and looking relieved.

Harry lowered his wand. “My pleasure Mr. Malfoy. Minerva, Severus, I am sorry to tell you, but he made it out of the Ministry. He was gone before you got here,”

“You knew it was us,” Severus asked, looking in disbelief.

Lucius offered an explanation. “I told him under strict confidence so that if something like this happened, we wouldn’t get arrested.”

“You best get back to Hogwarts. If he is going to do anything, it’s going for Hermione.” Harry urged, handing them some floo powder.

“Agreed,” Minerva said, shaking her head.

Severus was impressed. “Mr. Potter.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Thank you.” Severus nodded his head.

“No, thank you, now get going,” Harry said, looking to Lucius.

“Are you ready for our big scene Mr. Malfoy.”

“Of course.” He cast a cutting curse on Harry, who grabbed his side in pain and stood. He leaned his arm over Lucius’s shoulder, who started back in the direction they’d just come from.

“We should go,” Minerva said, touching his arm.

“Just a moment, I want to see this,” Severus said, holding his hand on hers.

He watched as Lucius began to stumble on his wand, moving like he was supporting Harry’s weight.

“Help, Help, Weasley got Potter, someone come quickly!” Lucius began shouted, and Severus chuckled.

“I’m satisfied.”

  
They entered the floo, landing back into the flat on top of The Three Broomsticks.

As soon as they were there, Severus was touching Minerva’s face, ripe with an apology. “Minerva, I am so sorry, and you are well within your rights to punch me right now.”

“Done.” She said, and she hit him in the face.

He saw stars for a second, reeling back. “Fair. Now, let’s get back to ourselves and save Hermione.”

“We left her with Anadora, Severus, if Ron is working with her, then Hermione could be in a lot of danger.”

Severus pulled out two vials, handing downing one himself.

“I know. Here, drink this.”

Minerva took it, and they both turned from each other hastily undressing before they got stuck in clothing that did not fit.

It was nice for him to be at his normal height again and not feel so heavy. They dressed quickly, and Severus gave Minerva all the privacy she would need.

“I’m ready, Severus.”

He turned around and gathered up what they needed to take with them. It was marvelous to have his own wand back in his hand.

Unlocking the door, they went downstairs.

“Mr. And Mrs. Longbottom, thank you for your cooperation. Mr. Weasley has escaped, so please, keep your eyes out.” Severus explained, still stretching now that he was back in his own body. He never in his entire life, wanted to be in that man’s form again.

“Oh shit. Are you both okay?” Neville asked, looking at them with some concern.

Minerva held her hand up and put aside his fears. “Aside from hurt faces and bruised feelings, we are fine, Neville.”

Severus and Minerva walked with haste back up to the main gate. They were not sure what they would find, after all, they had not known that they had a viper in their midst.

“If she is fine, do not raise the alarm. Don’t tell her that he is free; just continue one like we had a stressful board meeting.” Severus said, taking Hermione’s wand from Minerva as they reached the main doors.

“I need a gin meeting after that,” Minerva said, and Severus could not argue with her. “I will be leaving on vacation to look for Weasley. Hermione will keep her deputy title while I am gone so that she cannot leave Hogwarts.”

“I will make sure she is safe.”

They burst in and were able to sense where she was immediately—the Great Hall. Anadora was in the owlery.

When they got there, they could see Hermione looking all over the table, cursing as she looked under it.

He held up her wand, trying to not seem so relieved. “Granger, care to tell me why I found your wand in the snow outside the doors?”

“I have been looking for it all morning.” She said, taking it from him and grinning. She put it back into her sleeve.   
  
He focused his attention on Anadora’s energy, feeling betrayed and desperate to know what her part in all this was.

“The castle and the students were fine, but I would avoid the fourth floor, Peeves was playing pranks.” Hermione offered, and he nodded.

Minerva adjusted her jaw and spoke to them both, even though Severus already knew what was happening. “I will be leaving the power in you, Miss Granger, as I will be taking a holiday in my cottage. You and Severus will be the only teachers who will be there the whole time, so I leave you in charge.”

“Is she alright?” Hermione asked him, and he couldn’t believe that she was still so concerned for other people.

 _She doesn’t know the danger, of course, she is acting normal…_ Severus told himself.

“The meeting was draining on us both. I detest politics. If you will excuse me.” He started to walk away, having both a need to find out what was really going on here and how the hell Ron had gotten out.

“Yes, of course. I hope you can get some rest and feel better.”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. “You are far too kind for your own good.”

* * *

He sat in the Headmistress’s office with the Malfoy’s, George and Charlie Weasley, and Harry Potter. Bill Weasley was still at Gringott'sbut would be joining them soon. They were trying to figure out what had happened while they were making their move.

“He had someone let him out. My auror said that he felt like he had to open the gate, but he cannot remember why or who did it.” Harry said, shaking his head as he paced back and forth in front of the fire.

Lucius offered his input. “Imperious curse. Mr. Weasley is dealing in unforgivables now?”

“I doubt it, he can’t muster the desire for them, you have to mean it,” Harry answered, shaking his head.

“You speak with experience, Mr. Potter,” Lucius implied.

Harry nodded. “We all did things in the war we aren’t proud of, Mr. Malfoy.”

That was not a conversation that he thought he would ever hear between the two of them, but then again, today was full of things that he never expected.

George decided to pipe in now, looking at his watch. “I sent Gin to check the burrow, she’s not come back yet.”

“Who does he knew that we don’t know about,” Charlie asked, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead.

“Anadora.” Severus offered, still minding the presence of the woman who was milling about the castle.

“The one up the duff?” Draco so crudely put his comment.

While no one else knew this information, it was important enough that he knew he needed to share it. “Yes, the same. He has been paying her a lot of money for the last four years.”

“Ah, so you found the missing 35,000?” Lucius questioned, rubbing his chin with his hand.

“I did, I have the ledgers for you to go over as well.”

“So what now, where do we look?” George asked, a helpless expression on his face.

Severus turned on Harry, knowing that he likely knew the man better than any of them.

“You were Ron, and you wanted to hide where would you go Potter?”

Harry stopped his pacing, looking pensive as he seemed to run over things in his mind. “Um… It would have to be someplace that no one likes to go. Someplace easy to get in and out and someplace where he can still have access to alcohol.”

  
Draco offered. “The Shrieking Shack?”

Severus snorted, shaking his head. “You don’t think he would be that daft, do you, hide so close to where we are.”

“If he is trying to get to Hermione, it is perfect,” Minerva interjected, having been quiet this whole time. She’d been very quiet since they had gotten back. Severus understood, they had been through something hard, and they would both need to come down from it before they could deal with it.

George looked at his watch again, and Severus suddenly remembered that he had a way to find out where Ronald was hiding. “I must go to my quarters, I will be back.”

He got up, using the floo to avoid wasting any more time than necessary. He went to his desk, pulling out the timepiece that he’d used in Hogsmeade to determine if Ron was there or not.

Ron’s hand said “At Hogwarts”

“Fuck!”


	18. Waking Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> WARNING!!!!  
> There is graphic violence in this scene. Please be advised.
> 
> Also, this may be a very hard chapter to emotionally read and I will say it was very hard to write.
> 
> Shout out to everyone who has been in the comments trying to draw conclusions, you guys have been amazing.

Hermione was distracted from her daydreaming by an owl tapping at her window. Getting to her feet and stretching, she opened the door, letting the large russet owl in.

Crookshanks hissed as it landed on the bed, and Hermione shushed him, taking the letter from its foot.

  
**HERMIONE!**

**Please, you have to come to the Muggle Studies office. I’ve fallen. I had Reinald with me; it was the only way to reach you. Please, hurry.**

**Maria**

  
Eyes bulging, Hermione threw the letter on her bed, grabbing her wand and her bag. She rushed out the door, not paying any attention to the serpentine eyes looking at her curiously.

_I have to hurry…_ Hermione thought, rushing up the stairs, oblivious to anything else around her. She slid past Peeves as she hit the fourth-floor landing, catching herself on a railing so that she did not crash into the wall.

“Granger shouldn’t be here, she could get hurt.” Peeves shouted as he was unscrewing the top of a chandelier.

She ignored the ghost, rushing past him, her mind set on her destination.

She had to get to Maria. If she’d not been able to get up or get help, she must have fallen badly. She could have hurt the baby as well as herself.

The castle’s heartbeat was as loud as her own, and dread filled her, but she had to keep going.

She put her hand on the door, and it was stuck quick.

The fat friar stuck his head out, shaking it at her. “Professor Granger, you best go back downstairs. It’s not safe.”

“Let me in this room this instant, she needs me.” She drew her wand at the door. “ _Alohamora!_ ”

It didn’t work, and she screamed in frustration, grabbing the door and pulling with her might. She could feel that something was wrong, the castle knew something was wrong, but it wasn’t letting her in there and let her help.

Hermione drew back from the door again. She knew that the ghost would not be hurt by her spell. “ _Bombardia_!”

The door's hinges exploded, and the door fell on to the stone ground in front of her. 

“Don’t stand there, go get help for Maria!” Hermione yelled at the ghost, running into the dark room.

It was unnaturally dark, but Hermione felt her way through the classroom toward the office. Hermione thought maybe she’d fallen on some of her possessions, and a fog machine had been activated. The students had gotten to play with one yesterday. 

“Maria?” Hermione yelled, tripping over a chair and falling to her knees. She cursed and got back up, urgency and the wild thrum of her heart and the castle urging her on. 

“Hermione? I think I’ve broken something. Where are you?” 

She heard her voice, and she pushed forward toward the sound. “I’m here, I’m coming. Don’t move.”

“Hurry! Please.” Hermione could hear the fear in the woman’s voice. 

She grabbed the door handle, and it shocked her. Hermione jumped back, holding her hand as she looked at it. “The door is locked!”

“No, I didn’t lock it!” There was panic in her voice, and Hermione could feel it as well.

“Maria, the door is locked. Get back as far as you can from it.”

“Professor Granger, you should not be here lass. The Headmistress will have the rest of my head if you get hurt.” Nearly Headless Nick said, drifting to her side.

“I have to get into the room. I have to help her.” Hermione yelled, blasting this door.

It didn’t open, even with the exploding charm. She looked around, panicked in the dark, and tried to think of how to get into the room. She could hear Maria crying on the other side in pain.

“ _Bombardia Maxima_.” Hermione cast, and the door exploded into pieces.

“Hermione, what happened?” She heard Maria call out.

Hermione pushed past the rocks and the door rubble. “Don’t worry, I’m coming, I don’t know what the ghosts are doing, but I’m coming.”

“Hurry, please.”

Hermione made it into the hallway of the room, turned the corner, and it was brightly lit. Maria was sitting on the floor, her leg at an odd angle and she looked pained. She rushed forward, her wand out to start checking her for injuries. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure, I just, it went dark, and I fell,” Maria said, reaching toward her, looking relieved. 

Hermione pointed her wand at her leg. “Where does it hurt.”

“ _Immobulus_.” Maria cast, and Hermione was caught totally unprepared.

She was stuck, frozen on her knees.

She watched as Maria stood up just fine, holding her arm out as the large red owl came to rest on her shoulder.

“I told you that you were going about this all wrong. Never chase your prey love, lure it into safety, and then strike when it is vulnerable.” Anadora seemed to say to the owl, her voice colder.

“Let’s get you unfeathered, shall we.”

Hermione watched as Maria set the owl on the floor, grabbing its ankle and unclasping a small metal ring.

To Hermione’s horror, she saw the owl begin to stretch and transform, quickly taking Ron's shape.

_How… he’s at the ministry… how is he here… Severus said…_ Hermione panicked, unable to do anything but witness the scene before her.

“I am sorry I ever doubted you, Maria,” Ron said, kissing her.

Maria laughed and then pushed him away. “Now now, not until this is over. You cannot get distracted like last time.”

He looked at Hermione, and she felt fear in her. At the same time, the castle was thrumming and pushing within her. It was like it was trying to get her to be so uncomfortable that she would leave.

“I would love for you to tell her exactly what is going on before it’s all over.” Ron hummed, turning and grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from the desk, taking a long deep drink.

Maria had moved to a chair, resting her hands on top of her stomach. “If you wish it.”

Hermione was so confused. How did they know each other, what was going on, how did she get him in the castle. This mingled with her fear and bred a new kind of horror. What were they going to do to her?

“You still don’t understand.” Maria laughed, looking at her. “All that brain and not a lick of sense.”

“I told you, she’s intolerable about that.”

“I know it’s just funny. You see, Hermione, you’re in my way.” Maria said, tilting her head to the side and smiling at Ron. “Actually, you are in our way.”

_What the hell was she talking about, how was I in her way…_

“Start at the beginning, I wanna watch her face,” Ron said, crossing his arms. “It’s like not like anyone knows she is missing. No one is going to listen to the ghosts.”

“Very well. Five years ago, Ron and I met at a Quidditch match. I didn’t know he was married at the time, but it was easy to see that he was miserable. Apparently, you’d just run off and left him all alone. He was so helpless without you, he didn’t know how to go on.” She smiled at Ron, her voice was saccharine sweet.

“Until he met me. For that year, you were gone, it was glorious. I had the run of your home, your husband, he was sober and happy. But then his mother lured you back and convinced him to try again with you. I was devastated.”

“And I was miserable without you.” Ron offered a quarter of the way through the bottle of whiskey now.

“I know. But I am not the kind of woman who lets go of what she wants. I’m not you, I’m not weak.” Anadora leaned forward, hissing at Hermione.

Hermione wished she could move that she could scream and run and fight. Everything hurt as it dawned on her what this could mean.

“You obviously drove him back to drinking and back to me. I knew it was going to happen. And then, I decided that you had to go. Molly would never stop meddling unless you were out of the picture. She doesn’t believe in divorce, and her nagging had been driving Ron mad.”

“Mum can be mental about things, you know that. And with Fred going and all, she wanted me to have the perfect happily ever after, with you.” Ron said it like he was spitting it at her. 

“At first, it was supposed to make you divorce him because then Molly wouldn’t blame him. But every time you left, she would get you to come crawling back and force Ron to try again.” Maria explained, holding her wand as she stared coldly at Hermione.

She was in shock. What they were saying made sense, it was always Molly urging her back. It was always that she needed to work harder to make the marriage work. And this whole time, he was trying to get her to leave. Everything he did to her after that first year was because of this woman right here. If she could have moved, she would have screamed.

“And then, we just decided to keep you around for your work. You always wanted to be gone, and you made enough money to keep me comfortable and himself. Ron helped me get into Hogwarts, so I would be closer, and no one would think of him coming to check on Quidditch hopefuls.”

Hermione felt her chest burning, and she raged against the spell holding her. She just wanted to be able to move, scream, cry, and do anything but be made to sit here and hear this.

“You look so pathetic there, as you realize that your whole life was a lie.” Maria stood up, on hand under her stomach, the other on top of it.

Anadora’s smile of pride faded into something angry and hurt. She put her wand in Hermione’s face. “But then you had to get pregnant.”

“He tried everything to get you to abort. We tried putting things in your food, slipping you potions, but still, that unwanted seed in you grew. And then we found out that we were going to have a child. A son.” Maria said with pride, smiling at Ron, who had a lazy smile on his face, the bottle nearly gone.

Hermione felt like she was going to vomit. She didn’t need to hear what the woman was going to say, she could feel it in her bones.

“If your baby had been born, my son would get nothing of his father’s when you died. I would not have you take everything from us. You had to go, and so did the child.”

Hermione’s head swam, and she felt like she was suddenly no longer in her body. Instead, she was watching from the outside. Everything was numb, and she wasn’t breathing. She could feel nothing but heard every word.

“Unfortunately, Ron has to get very drunk to do the things to you that he does. But he didn’t get drunk enough to kill you. At least the child wasn’t something to worry about.” Maria said, gesturing to Ron, who had just finished the bottle of Firewhiskey, his eyes holding that same drunken look he got when he was having a bad day.

“This time, Hermione, I will.” He breathed.

There should have been fear, there should have been something, but Hermione felt nothing. None of it felt real anymore; there was no way this was real. She was having a nightmare. If she admitted, for a minute, that this was real, she would lose her mind.

“But, first Naldo, let me tell her how we got here, have another glass,” Anadora said, offering him a second bottle from her desk. “You had to run away, you had to get out. Now, after we’d decided that you needed to be gone. It took you four years to leave for good, but it was too late. You were a risk. But to my good fortune, where do you go, but here?”

Maria turned, pointing to the castle walls with a smile. “Where I could watch your every move. I know that you and Severus are a thing again, I know about the gifts, and walks, and how he stayed by your side the second time that Ron failed to kill you.”

“Rotten git bastard.”

“I know love, I know.” Maria put her hand on his arm softly. “Severus played his part in this. He unknowingly delivered the letters to Ron, taking them up to the Owlery so that everyone would know what you were up to. You did too. I am surprised that you never noticed your own creation at use. The blank letter was secret spelled for his eyes only. I thought you’d caught it this morning, but you are so stupid. Severus is too, now that I think of it. He also was so wrapped up in you that he never ever looked at me. Who would? I’m the sweet muggle studies professor who is getting to start her life and family.”

This shook her a bit from her separation and wash of anger crawling through the numbness. _They used Severus… Gods, we were all fools…_

“I also know about these.” She said, touching Hermione’s wrist, her fingers going over the silver bracelets. “You see, he explained it to Neville, who wanted to make sure that I knew what was going on to help protect you. After they kept Ron from taking you the first time, I decided we needed to adjust our strategy. Since they are so keen to keep you here, then we were going to come here. I bet you are wondering how Ron got into the campus.”

_This was madness… were they both mad?…_ Anger was rising in her, but it was useless as long as she was left in this spell.

“How did Sirius and Peter get into the castle, third year?” Ron asked and chuckled, holding the metal ring in his fingers. “The wards don’t stop animals. I’m not an animagus, but Maria had a friend who could make me a transfiguration ring to become an owl. We tested it a few times, and when I could come and go as I pleased, we decided to end this tonight.” 

“Yes, we will. You are not going to stop me from my happy ending. My child will get to have everything that is his by birth. And I will have everything that was yours.” Maria chuckled delightfully, sitting on the desk. “Do you want to hear anything she has to say?”

“Why not, I’m sure it will be entertaining,” Ron said, taking her wand and flicking it at Hermione. Hermione felt the spell release, but she was instantly tied up, bound with ropes that materialized.

She screamed in rage and sadness and loss as it all came crashing into her. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? YOU CAN’T POSSIBLY THINK YOU ARE GOING TO GET AWAY FROM THIS.”

Maria snorted and then laughed. “Yes, we are. Ron is going to bash your face in, and then we are going to dump you off the tower, so it looks like you killed yourself. By the time they find you, we will be long gone.”

“Let’s get up there, I’m ready to be done with this. Once she is gone, I can convince everyone she was crazy and get my life back.” Ron said, grabbing Hermione like she was a sack of potatoes and throwing her over his arm.

  
Maria had taken her wand back, casting a silencing charm on Hermione. 

He opened the window out of the office and grabbed his broom. Anadora caught her own, and Hermione could do nothing as they jumped out the window, Hermione was carried like luggage.

This couldn’t be happening. This had to be a dream. Hermione tried to squirm and move and get away, hoping that something would wake her up. There was no way Ron was flying to her to kill her. She wasn’t ready to die, not yet.

She wished Severus was here, hoped he would shake her to wake her up, or that she would feel the squeeze of his hand, and she would go back to peaceful sleep, not this nightmare.

They landed on the flat open area of the astronomy tower, and Ron threw her on the stone, dropping his broom.

“Hit her.” Maria urged, and he did as she said. 

Hermione felt her head hit the ground as he smashed his fist into her face. 

It burned in pain, and all hopes that this wasn’t real was gone. She tried to roll away, her body still tied up. If she could get her hands loose, she could get to the portkey, she could get away from them.

“Again!” Hermione could hear Anadora urging him on. 

Hermione felt each blow as he slammed his fists into her. Her nose cracked, her eyes blurred, and it was coming so fast that she couldn’t anticipate where they were coming from. At one point, she saw stars, and everything went fuzzy.

“Enough, let her feel fear as she falls.” 

The hitting stopped. Hermione's head lolled to the side, and she coughed, tasting copper. Everything was spinning, and her head vaulted sideways when he picked her up by her arms. She couldn’t even focus enough to fight back, everything was too loud.

The ropes fell away, she could feel her feet dragging against the stone. She tried to get traction, tried to move, but there were three of everything, and nothing stayed still.

“WEASLEY STOP! UNHAND HER!” Hermione heard a voice, and she lifted her head from where it had fallen from to her chin. She blinked the eye she could see out of, trying to figure out who it was.

“You are too late, Snape. You hex me, she goes down.” Hermione heard Ron say, and Hermione felt some hope burst through the pain. 

_He’d come, he’d come to save her. It was going to be okay…_

“Severus.” She whispered a plea between broken teeth and bleeding lips. She didn’t even know if she made a sound; all Hermione knew is that she tried, and that was enough.

“WEASLEY, stop.”

“Ron, do it.” Hermione heard Maria yell. “Stop being such a fucking coward and do it already.” 

“Maria, I would step back before I forget myself. Mr. Weasley, if you drop her, I will kill you.”

“Let’s see how that goes, shall we.”

Hermione could feel that there was nothing under her feet now, and her arms were grasping at Ron, she felt panic in her throat. Her hands, weak and clumsy, were trying to grab hold of whatever she could. He shook her, and her head jerked in pain, her hands losing purchase. 

“Let’s see who you go after first, do you save her, or kill me.”

Hermione felt him let go, and she screamed, grabbing at him and finding nothing to hold on to. She was falling so fast, she could see stone flying past her, and she flailed, trying to grab at anything to save her. 

She fell into something solid, all the air left her lungs, and everything stopped.

**There was blackness.**


	19. Reactionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> WARNING!!!!  
> There is graphic violence in this scene. Please be advised.
> 
> Also, this may be a very hard chapter to emotionally read and I will say it was very hard to write.
> 
> Shout out to everyone who has been in the comments trying to draw conclusions, you guys have been amazing.

Severus ran into the floo to the Headmistress’s office. He could feel the castle resisting something, and he knew it had to be him.

“He’s in the fucking castle, find him, now. I’m going to find Hermione.” Severus shouted as he walked in, and everyone got to their feet.

“What, how do you know.”

Severus showed them the clock that he had, and the Weasley’s paused.

“That’s a family monitor. You can’t trick them, Mum made them.” George said, standing to his feet and drawing his wand.

“I’m going with you, Severus,” Harry said, standing and looking to his wife. “Gin, send a message to Neville and Krum, ask them to fly around the grounds. Let them know that Hermione might be in serious danger.”

“Potter, let’s go,” Severus said, his nerves already through the roof. He threw in the floo powder and went to her rooms.

“She is not here, man-sized serpent.” A voice called, and Severus looked at the Medusa.

Severus asked, moving toward the door.“Where is she?” 

Medusa pointed toward the paper on the bed. “A red owl delivered her that letter, she ran like hell was on her heels nearly 20 minutes ago.”

He grabbed the paper, but there was nothing on it. “It is blank!?”

Harry grabbed it, rubbing his fingers over it. “No, it’s secret spelled. We can’t read it.”

“Make sense, Potter.” He snarled, angry that he had not thought to have someone stay with her.

“Ron is using Hermione’s magic she made, it’s like fidelus for letters. It can only be read by the intended party.”

Severus felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Then, he already has her.”

“I will alert the portraits, we can search faster than you.” The Medusa hissed, leaving the door open as she ran through the castle.

Severus closed his eyes, feeling for her. She was in the castle, he could tell that—her office. But something was going on there, the castle was doing something, shifting and shaking.

“I know where she is, come on Potter.” 

Severus ran, not caring if Harry caught up or not. Something was wrong, and he could feel it in his bones. _How had the redhead menace gotten past the wards?_

The stair shifted as he was on them, taking him away from his destination. He cursed and ran up farther, over the fourth floor. He could see the ghosts doing something, and the Muggle Studies classroom door was blasted off. He would go up these stairs and turn back and go down the others. He had to get to her.

Severus was afraid. He was fearful of what could be happening to her while he was trying to get to her. He’d been in that body, Severus knew how strong it was. He knew that Ron was fully capable of hurting her.

The stairs shifted again, sending him up another floor, and he yelled at Potter, who was right behind him. “The blasted stairs are trying to keep us from getting there.”

“I’ve always found they take me to where I am supposed to be,” Potter said, and he looked around.

Severus felt her energy moving, and it was no longer in the castle confines. She was still on the grounds, but not in her office. Closer focus told him that she was going up.

“Maybe the stairs know something we don’t. Let’s go, Potter.” Instead of fighting the castle, he let her head him, the stairs going up and up.

She was in the tower now, he could feel it. He willed himself to go faster, taking stairs three at a time as he had to get there. The urgency in his chest was nearly suffocating.

Bursting on to the tower, the first thing he saw created a new kind of anger in him.

Weasley had Hermione, his hands under her arms, and dragged her toward the edge of the tower. She was bleeding from her mouth and nose, and she didn’t look like she was conscious. He knew she was alive, her chest was panting and heaving.

“WEASLEY STOP! UNHAND HER!” Severus yelled desperately, running across the ground. 

Hermione lifted her head, her face searching for his voice. 

Anadora raised her wand on them, hand on her hip. Potter paused, his own wand pointed at her.

Weasley didn’t even look at them; he was still looking at Hermione, who was still limp in his arms. “You are too late, Snape. You hex me, she goes down.”

Severus saw her meet his gaze, a dash of hope running through them. “Severus.” She whispered. 

That whisper reached out and grabbed his heart. He felt pain as he feared he would not be able to get Weasley to not drop her. 

“WEASLEY, stop,” Severus screamed.

He watched in bewilderment as Maria screeched at Weasley.

“Ron, do it. Stop being such a fucking coward and do it already.” 

  
Potter stepped up to Severus’s shoulder, his wand pointed at Maria Anadora. Severus had his wand on Ron, advancing, his eyes not leaving Hermione.

“Maria, I would step back before I forget myself. Weasley, if you drop her, I will kill you.” Harry snarled, and Severus still kept walking toward Ron.

  
“Let’s see how that goes, shall we,” Ron said, shaking her over the edge. She seemed to realize her position because she began to fight and squirm and grab at him.

Ron looked at Severus right in his face. It was malicious and full of drunken rage. “Let’s see who you go after first, do you save her, or kill me.”

He let Hermione go, and she tumbled over the edge. 

Severus felt his heart stop. “No!”

Adrenaline flooded Severus. He moved without thought, jumping over the edge of the tower. He was utilizing the wandless flight that he’d been taught in a darker time.

She was falling faster and faster, and he could see that she was trying to think of a way to save herself. Severus pushed himself, and they were coming perilously close to the ground.

Dropping past her, he grabbed her in the air, wrapping his arms around her. She slammed into his chest, making him drop some height in flight, and she went limp against him.

He couldn't believe that he'd been able to catch her in time.

Severus turned back around, flying back up to the tower. He held her to him as tightly as he could. He rose up over the ledge of the tower, setting foot evenly on the stone.

He was full of rage as he continued walking, Ronald Weasley looking at him like he saw a ghost. Harry had restrained Maria and was in a standoff with Ron. Harry had no idea that Severus was behind him. 

“I am going to kill you.” Severus snarled, his steps not even faltering. “Potter, take her.” 

Harry turned his head and looked in shock at them. Severus handed Hermione to him and continued to advance on the man who had no wand, no broom, and no escape from him.

“You think you can take me. Come on.” Weasley said.

Severus was not thinking, he wasn’t feeling anything but cold rage. He tightened his fist, letting all the years of anger and all the pent up fury grow in his stomach.

“I promised I would never be like my father, Mr. Weasley, but I will make an exception for you.” 

Ron tried to hit him.

Severus sidestepped and slammed his fist into the man’s face as hard as he could. He felt the pain rush through his knuckles, but he didn’t care. 

He hit him again.

And again.

Severus hit him until he was on the ground, and then he was on top of him, hitting him in the face with all the strength he could. 

Every hit was for her.   
Every bit of pain he made this bastard feel was for her.  
He didn’t care that he’d been hit in the chest, the shoulder, the face.   
His pain didn’t matter anymore.   
He didn’t care he had blood all over him.  
He didn’t even know whose blood it was.  
Nothing mattered anymore.  
All he wanted to do was make Weasley hurt.   
Make him hurt the way he watched Hermione hurt, the way he watched his mother hurt.   
He wanted to make him feel what it was like to be the one under the blows.

All Severus heard was his heart and each impact.  
He didn’t know if Weasley was breathing,  
Severus didn’t even know if he was breathing.  
All he knew is he wasn’t going to stop.

Someone had tried to pull him off, but he pulled away, hitting the man again.

More people grabbed him, dragging him off the man, and Severus was in a fury, struggling to get back to him and finish the job. He was strong-armed back, even as he was cursing and shouting and fighting against them. All he could feel was the anger and rage.

His focus was centered on the man lying on the ground, nothing else mattered.

The people around him were shouting, but it was just noise that was overcome with the loud heartbeats and heavy breaths. Someone had picked him up around the waist while two others had his arms. 

“I will kill you,” Severus shouted, still trying to get away from those holding him back.

“Severus, calm down!” He could hear Minerva, but he wasn’t done. He would not be done until Ronald Weasley could never put his hands on her again.

“She’s awake, she’s alive, Severus, Hermione is awake.” He heard Potter say, and that is what cut through the fog.

He let out a deep breath, his body shaking as his lungs worked harder than they had ever worked. He blinked, looking around. The fog of war was clearing slowly, and he swallowed hard.

“Where is she?” He managed to pant, and he was let on his feet again. He looked to see that Viktor Krum, the massive Bulgarian player had hoisted him off his feet.

“Are you calm?” Harry said, and Severus focused on him, taking in a calming breath and nodding.

“I’m calm enough; where is she, Harry.”

“Okay, let him go,” Harry said, and he grabbed Severus’s arm, leading him over to where Ginny was sitting, running spells over Hermione, whose head was in her lap.

Severus fell to his knees, too weak from the fight to hold himself up. He tucked his bloody hands under her and brought her to his chest. He cradled her against him, not willing to let himself think about how this looked. It didn’t matter. She was alive, she was going to be okay.

She clung to him, sobbing. He rocked back and forth on his knees, trying to comfort her. 

“He was going to kill me. He killed my son. He killed him on purpose. I wished for you to come and you came. You came. You came.” She wailed, her hands fisting in the fabric of his coat, but he didn’t care.

“I have you. I have you.” He chanted back, shaking as he came down from what was both emotionally and physically taxing. But he didn’t care that is whole body felt like it was on fire, or that he was shaking, or even that tears were coming out of the corner of his eyes.

All he cared about was that he had been on time and that she was here, alive.

“I am not letting you go, Hermione. Not this time.”

The feeling that had been in the back of his head and in his chest took hold of him. There was no way he could deny to himself what he felt for her. Not now. His affection, the feelings from years past, blossomed into intense feelings of protection and love. 

Severus loved her. Even if she never returned it, even if it meant nothing to her, Severus could no longer deny it. 

“Severus, she needs to be checked over, and so do you,” Minerva said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her and then at the woman who was bleeding all over him. He didn’t want to let her go, but she needed help.

“It’s okay. They are going to help. It’s okay.” He said, sliding his hands under the hands fisting his coat and slowly peeling away from her. She laid back down, Ginny going back to running scans over her. Severus couldn’t hold himself up any longer. He collapsed on the stone next to her, his face appreciating the cold stone. He grabbed her hand, as it was all he had energy left to do, and he squeezed her hand.

She squeezed it back.

* * *

Instead of what he planned for his winter break, Severus spent it in the hospital wing. 

While his injuries had been nothing more than a few broken bones in his hand and a bruised set of ribs, Hermione’s had been extensive.

She ended up with a cracked skull, a broken ocular socket, a fractured nose, two broken teeth and bruising. Her lip had been busted, she had a scrape across the back of her head and her shoulder had been yanked out of the socket. Not to mention a massive concussion that was on that edge of life-threatening.

He’d not left her side for the week that she’d been in there. He ate there, slept there, and refused to go anywhere else unless it was to the bathroom. He didn’t care who else came to sit with her, but he was not leaving.

Severus had brought his journal and his books, and when she was in between potions, he would sit at a transfigured desk and write out what he felt. 

He wrote about Molly’s interference. He wrote about the signs that she’d given early on that she didn’t want to be with Ron. He wrote about his guilt because he felt like he had chased her into this life. And he wrote about how he felt now and how he got to felling it. 

He’d been afraid at first that maybe these warm, intense feelings of affectation were actually some sort of trauma bonding from the war. He’d looked at everything, tried to be honest and examine the idea. He resolved that it had a lot to do with the quiet time they spent together, rather than the events of the war that had caused it.

He also hadn’t thought he would live to see her after his trial, which opened him up more than he ever would have. 

Severus also wrote about his fear that she would not have the same feelings when she recovered. He’d resolved two things while she was healing. He would not express anything to her before the divorce was final, and she showed any signs to him of interest. And even when he did, he was going to be clear that she needed to work on herself before she considered anything and that Hermione needed to know what she really wanted.

As much as Severus did not want to think about the chance of letting her go a second time, he came to grips with the fact that she wasn’t a possession. Looking at his relationship with Lily, he knew then that he was all wrong. He saw her as something that was his like she owed him something because he was kind to her. Because they were friends. He thought he could treat her anyway, and she would never leave because she was his friend. He knew that his infantile arrogance had been the downfall of any of his chances with her. He would not make the same mistakes twice.

“Severus.” She whispered, and he set the quill down, reaching for her hand and rubbing his thumb on the space between her thumb and index finger.

“I am here.”

Her eyes were heavily lidded with sleep and potions. “He tried to kill me.”

“I know, it’s okay now.” Severus continued to rub her hand to relax her.

“He was going to kill me.” There was a tear in her eye.

Severus brushed it away. “I know, but he will never touch you again.”

“How do you know.”

“Because he is in Azkaban, and he will be there for a very long time.”

Severus had made sure to go to the Minister himself, saying that if he did not send that boy there, he would have to send Severus because Severus was going to go and kill him. He’d already been stopped short once, he would not be stopped again.

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Go back to sleep, you need to rest.”

“Severus, what day is it?”

He looked out the windows, it was snowing softly, the sun had already set long ago. It was after midnight.

“It’s Christmas, Hermione.”

She squeezed his fingers, a sleepy yawn on her face. “Thank you for not leaving me alone.”

“You are the one who told me that no one deserves to be alone on Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Severus.”

“Happy Christmas, Hermione.”

She sat there with her eyes open for a few minutes, but her lids kept drooping. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“Good idea. I will be here when you wake.” He reassured her, looking at his book while he held her hand.

* * *

  
**Readers,**

**I am sure you have heard all speculation about the events that happened on the 22nd of December at Hogwarts. I am here to say that I have been gifted with a letter from Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley, soon to be just Granger. I have permission to share this letter, in entirety with you. Before I do, I want to say that our hearts are with Hermione during this time, as it cannot have been easy to go through.**

  
**Romilda,**

**Thank you for reaching out to me to check on my health. I am recovering well with those around me. I know that you want to know what happened, and I will do my best to explain it. Feel free to share this letter with your readers, as everything I say here is factual, and anyone who would try to disprove it has not seen the evidence.**

**I have been married to Ronald Weasley for six years. It wasn’t bad in the beginning. He had his issues, and drinking was one, but he’d lost family in the war, and I thought it was his way of coping. Many turned to drink at that time.**

**Throughout the first year of our marriage, Ron kept getting drunk and mad. It wasn’t violent at first, just yelling. I left him the first time he slammed my head into a wall. It was two weeks after our first anniversary. We were separated for a year at that time. During that time, Ron met Maria Anadora. I don’t know the details, but what came of that year was a torrid affair that would make my life hell.**

**When I came back, at the insistence of my mother-in-law, things were fine for a while, then they weren’t. For the next four years, I lived in a hellscape created by my husband. I didn’t know at the time, but it was intentional, as my husband and his mistress were trying to get me to leave.**

**Last March, I discovered I was with child. Ron seemed excited and happy, and we began to do all the things that normal couples do when they are expecting a child. For a little while, things were comfortable, and the monster that my husband had become was gone. He was caring for me, bringing me food, everything. I didn’t know at the time that he was trying to kill my child and myself. At Maria Anadora’s request, since she’d also become pregnant with his child.**

**He succeeded in killing my unborn son. He couldn’t kill me.**

**I fled to Hogwarts to get away from him four months after I gathered enough courage and will. Headmistress McGonagall gave me the position to be Maria Anadora’s aid, as she was leaving to have her child. The Headmistress had no idea of the association with my soon-to-be-ex-husband.**

**For one month, this woman befriended me and was kind. I had no idea that she was secretly feeding information to Ronald so that he could corner me and try to kill me in Hogsmeade. If it had not been for Professor Severus Snape, I would be dead, and no one would have ever known.**

**On the 22nd, which was the last day for Anadora at the school, she smuggled Ron into the school, as he had been banned, and they executed a plan to kill me and make me look like it was a suicide. They nearly succeed. If there had not been an impromptu Order Meeting going on in the castle, I would likely be dead.**

**Ronald hit me until I could not move and then tossed me over the side of the Astronomy tower. Because Severus Snape knew how to do a broomless fight, he could catch me and save my life a second time.**

**I was unconscious for what transpired between Professor Snape and Ronald, but I was told that he was so enraged that he had to be restrained by Viktor Krum to keep from killing Ronald Weasley. However, I don’t blame him, as he had just seen Ronald attempt to murder me.**

**Ron is now in Azkaban, where I have been assured he will not escape from and will only be out for our divorce proceedings, which will happen in February. His accomplice, and mistress, Maria Anadora, has been admitted to St. Mungos mental ward until she has her child, and then she will be sent to Azkaban until her and Ronald’s trial.**

**Many have speculated that there is some affair between Professor Snape and me. I want to establish that, as in fact, not accurate. He has been accommodating and protective, but as of this moment, there is nothing more between us than a friendship.**

**Thank you again, Romilda, for everything.**

**With highest regards,**

**Professor Hermione Granger-Weasley**   
**Muggle Studies - Hogwarts**

**There you have it readers.**

**Stay Witchy,**

**Romilda Vane**


	20. Crushing Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> WARNING!!!!  
> There is graphic violence in this scene. Please be advised.  
> This also may be triggering as if features infant loss.

Thump!

“Stop!”

Thump!

“Ron, Stop!”

Thump!

“No, no, the baby Ron! Stop!”

Hermione twisted away from him, her hands moving defensively over her stomach. He didn’t stop, he kept swinging. His eyes were empty, the vacant rage of another bender.

“You have to push me!” Ron snarled, snatching her by the hair and throwing her forcefully into the wall.

She didn’t understand, things had been going so well. _Why, why was this happening…_

Hermione turned her back toward him as his foot missed her belly; instead, he hit her in the back. She howled in pain, curling forward, one hand on the wall and the other over the top of her stomach. He kicked her again, and she felt like she couldn’t move.

“Ron, please, stop.” She cried, pleading, trying to get to the man that was hidden under the mask of alcohol.

“Stop crying, damn it.” He snapped, yanking her up by her arm, bringing her face up to his bright red face. “Stop. Crying.”

“Please, please stop, you are going to hurt the baby,” She begged, her other hand trying to protect herself.

His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring. “That is all you care about, that fucking baby.”

He was in a rage, and she needed to reach him, need to calm him before he did something he would regret. “Ron, you care too, remember, remember we are starting a family. Please, please stop before you hurt the baby.”

He let out a scream of rage, throwing her on to the ground again. “I don’t fucking care, I wish you never got pregnant. Why would I ever want to have a child with you.”

_It’s the alcohol talking…_ She told herself, rolling clumsily over as Ron tried to stomp on her.

_I have to get away… Get some distance… He will calm down…_

Hermione struggled to her feet, turning and rushing toward the bedroom. He stumbled over the hall rug, giving her enough time to shut and lock the door. Leaning against it, she cried, holding her face in her hands. 

His fists slammed on the door, screeching and bellowing that he would wring her neck if she didn’t open the door. 

_He’s not going to stop until he kills me…_ Hermione thought mournfully. 

She ran her hands over her stomach, feeling the unhappy fluttering of her child under her skin. He’d just started moving around this week. She’d cried when she felt the first kick. She knew it was a boy, she could feel it in her bones.

“Hermione, open this fucking door, now.” He screamed, slamming on it so hard that she shook.

Hermione looked around the room in a panic. She had to get away, she had to leave, not for her, but for her son.

“I can’t do this.” She sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yes, you can, you daft bitch.” He hollered, and the door bounced again, aggravating her injuries.

_Where could she go… If she went to the burrow, Molly would just send her home._   
_Harry wouldn’t believe her. None of the Weasley’s would._   
_Her parents were dead._   
_Where could she go?_

The door bounced again, the wood cracking.

_It didn’t matter, anywhere was better than here right now._

Hermione got up and started for the window, it was the only way out of the room aside from the door. She could try to climb down the lattice on the side. If she was careful, she could make it.

Sliding it open, she began to crawl out when the door splinted into pieces. 

He grabbed her ankle, dragging her back in. 

“Where the fuck do you think you are going?” He bellowed in a rage, punching her down to the floor.

“Ron, you are going to hurt our baby. Please, I need to go someplace until you calm down.” She breathed, holding her hands up.

“You aren’t going anywhere.” He kicked her, this time not missing her stomach, and the pain made her fold-over, rolling to her side on the floor.

_No… I have to get out of here…_

Hermione struggled, everything hurting, as he kicked her a second and third time. Drawing upon her knees, she started crawling, trying to turn away from him with every blow.

The wood of the door was everywhere, but she crawled over it, no matter how much it hurt.

He paused in his attack, and she got to her feet, pushing through the door frame and running. 

“You are not leaving me.” Ron bellowed behind her, and she could hear him pounding on the floor behind her. 

She turned for the stairs, and he was on her. 

His giant fists snatched her hair, yanking her back and slamming her back against the hallway wall. 

I knocked the wind out of her. 

“Stop crying. Stop running. You are making me madder.” He growled, and he put his hands on the wall above her and kicked as hard as he could. His foot smashed down on her stomach, and she couldn’t breathe, and the pain was unbearable. 

“Stop.” She screamed breathlessly, but he kept kicking.

Hermione howled, pushing and him, hitting his legs, trying to get away from him. Every kick was more pain and more pressure.

He snatched her up by her blouse, bringing her up off of her feet. “You are worthless. I never loved you, you are my biggest mistake. I wish you were dead.”

“Ron, stop, please. Let me go.”

“You want to run away so bad, here, let me help you.”

She felt him throw her again, but there was no wall to stop her.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

Hermione hit her head on the banister on the way down, and the only thing she could do was hold her hands out to try to stop her fall. She landed face-first at the bottom of the stairs. She tried to stay still, thinking that maybe if he thought she was passed out, he would stop. Hermione held her breath, willing him to not come downstairs.

“Finally.” She heard him say, and then he turned around and went back to his den.

She still didn’t let herself make a sound as she crawled to the bathroom. If she could lock herself in there until she could get her feet, she could get away.

Hermione inched the door closed, locking it and sitting on the floor.

She’d peed herself. 

Her hands instantly went to her stomach as pains shot up her spine, and she wasn’t able to muffle the sound. She was panting, folded over her swollen belly as ripples of pain ran through her. 

With horror, Hermione looked at the floor.

It wasn’t pee. It was blood.

Blood, blood everywhere.  


  
“Hermione.”

“Hermione, you’ve got to wake up.”

“Hermione!”

Someone was touching her face, and it hurt. It hurt so bad. 

Opening her eyes, she wasn’t in that hellscape anymore. No, she was looking up at Ginny. She couldn’t see out of one eye, but she knew it was Ginny.

“Thank Merlin. Hermione, you have to stay awake.”

It came back to her, like a sucker punch to the gut. Ron, Maria, the tower, the fall. She tried to flail, and Ginny held her hand down.

“He’s trying to kill me,” Hermione whined, whispering.

“Not anymore,” Ginny whispered and was running her wand over her head.

There was yelling, and it drew her attention.

“Get him off him before he kills him.”

“Merlin Fuck, when did he get this strong.”

“Krum, grab him, I’ll get his arms.”

Hermione turned her head, barely being able to make out a group of people. There was a black blur, swinging wildly and screaming, “I will kill you.”

“Severus.” She whispered, her hand reaching in that direction.

“Shush, he’s okay. Stay still. She’s awake.” Ginny said, the last part louder and not to her.

“She’s awake, she’s alive, Severus, Hermione is awake!” It was Harry, she could hear him shouting, but she looked up at Ginny, focusing on the red hairs around her freckled forehead.

There was more yelling, but Hermione found it so hard to focus. There was so much pain, so much aching, and thudding.

Suddenly, she was picked up and pulled tightly to a chest. It was blackness and buttons and the smell of spearmint, wool, and she knew. 

_He came…_

Hermione grabbed ahold of him like he was her lifeline, her face aching as she wailed into his shoulder. She felt him holding her tightly to him, and she shook, her body reacting to the pain and the tension and the stress.

_He came for me…_

“He was going to kill me. He killed my son. He killed him on purpose. I wished for you to come and you came. You came. You came.” She cried as he rocked her back and forth. She grabbed handfuls of his coat, trying to crawl under his very skin so that she could feel safe.

His words rumbled through her and around her as he repeated the same words over. “I have you. I have you.” 

She was safe. All the air ran out from her lungs as she cried, her pained face burying into Severus's chest. It hurt so bad, she was nothing but pain and tears and sorrow. But he had her, and that was enough.

“I am not letting you go, Hermione. Not this time.” He whispered into her hair, and she shook, trembling with all the madness of the day taking its toll. She didn’t hear anything else, just their pounding hearts, his sharp breaths, and her own gasping.

He started to pull away from her, and she snatched and grabbed at him, not wanting him to let her go. 

“It’s okay. They are going to help. It’s okay.” His fingers tucked under hers, pulling her off of him. She grabbed his hands, and he leaned her back, putting her head back in Gin’s lap.

His absence was palpable. Hermione would have called out for him, but her voice was gone, and she was so tired.

And then he took her hand and gave her a squeeze. 

It was enough.

She squeezed his hand back and held his hand, not letting go.

* * *

  
Hermione didn’t remember much of the week that she was in the hospital wing. When she was awake, it was always brief, and the imagery was dreamlike.

Severus was always there. She remembered that. 

Other people had been there, but she didn’t remember anything that had been said.

New Years Day was when she was able to get out of bed and not feel dizzy. Severus was there, holding her hands, making sure that she had her footing. Once she was able to move on her own, she realized what had happened while she was healing. It had been a whirlwind of information, and Hermione felt like she needed a whole separate day to process it all.

  
The castle was quiet now, everyone had gone back to their homes and families.

Hermione watched as Severus slept in the chair, a book across his lap, and his head lulled back. He snored, and while it was loud, it wasn’t obnoxious.

She slipped out of bed, wrapping the robe at the end of her bed around herself quietly. Hermione didn’t want to disturb him, she wanted a few minutes to walk around on her own and think.

Barefeet on the cold stone wasn’t pleasant, so she slid on the slippers that Harry or Ginny, she wasn’t sure which had brought her.

Padding out of the infirmary quietly, she walked toward her rooms. No one was up in the castle, it was in the middle of the night.

“You return. I was told by the serpentine man that you had been grievously injured.” The Medusa said, her snake hair sliding and moving around. The warriors were all sleeping in their camp in the fresco, their battle was forgotten for sleep.

“I was. I need to check on Crookshanks.”

“The she-elf has been spoiling him.”

The door opened, and Hermione walked into her rooms, smiling as she was immediately greeted by an orange cat yelling at her. She lent down and picked him up, ruffling his fur.

“I know, I know, I keep leaving you in the dark.” She spoke to him, taking a seat in her chair with him on her lap, purring like a motorcycle. She ran her fingers through his fur and exhaled softly.

Hermione should have felt elated, or peaceful, or like everything was finally over. Instead, she had more questions, more doubts, and a wound in her chest that magic could not heal. She’d put on a happy face for everyone else, they needed to think she was happy so that they could not fret over her and spend time with their loved ones.

“It’s you and me now.” She whispered to Crookshanks, who gave her an approving meow as she scratched his ear.

Hermione felt heavy.

It was one thing to think that the person you loved and promised to spend the rest of your life with was trying to kill you. It was another thing to know that they had been really trying.

Another thing entirely to know that the worst night of her life wasn’t an accident. That she laid on that bathroom floor, delivering a small stillborn son, and that had been on purpose.

It hurt her in ways she didn’t know she could hurt. Under every scar that she had, there was this pain, like she’d been pulled apart. Every minute of the hell she’d been through was not because Ron had a problem with liquor. It was because he didn’t love her and wanted her dead.

She had always thought that underneath all the anger and the rage was still her best friend. That he was lost. She had tried so hard to save him, thinking that he needed it. But he didn’t.

Everything about their life had been a lie. His kindness and apparent getting right for the baby had been a farce. All the early complications in her pregnancy were because he was trying to kill her child. The accidental food poisoning, the expired pre-natal potion. They weren’t accidents of a man struggling to come to grips with the fact that he was going to be a father. It was the premeditation of a monster.

Hermione had loved a monster. She had spent years trying to tame and save and change a devil.

She wanted to cry. But she didn’t think she had any more tears left for him. She didn’t even have any tears for herself. Somehow, she should have known. She should have never go back the first time.

The only man who would ever love her didn’t actually love her. Maybe he never had. Had he married her because he wanted to, or because his mother was adamant that it was what he was supposed to do? She’d been another placation in the long list of things Molly Weasley’s family did to keep her happy. 

Her worthlessness seemed to know no bounds. 

The door slid open behind her, and she didn’t have to turn her head to know it was Severus.

“If you wanted to relocate, you could have told me.”

“I needed to think.” She explained, petting Crookshanks.

Hermione didn’t hear him move from the doorway. “Should I leave you to your thoughts?” 

“No, you can stay.” Hermione offered, gesturing to the armchair on her left side. 

“Do you wish me to stay?”

She thought about it for a moment. While she had walked away to think, it hadn’t been to get away from Severus. It was instead, for her to get someplace more private. 

“Yes.” 

“Very well,” Severus said. He walked around the chairs and took the seat she’d pointed to. He flicked his wand, starting the fire that she had neglected to start, and he leaned back.

Hermione looked into the fire, watching as flames licked and bounced over the wood, slowly consuming it. 

“Do you wish to speak, or would you rather I stay silent while you think?” He asked her after a few minutes, and Hermione looked at him.

She twisted her lips as she thought over his question.“I’m not sure if I am being honest.”

“Would it help you to talk about what you are feeling? To say it out loud?” 

He’d already done so much for her. She knew that he had an obligation to help her, he was Deputy Headmaster. And she knew that he likely felt like he was indebted to her from before. It would be too much for her to burden him with the things running through her mind.

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

He turned from the fire, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. His voice was quiet, but it still had that firmness that meant he was absolute in his seriousness. “Hermione, I would not be here, offering, if I thought it was an imposition on myself.”

That caused her to pause. True to form, Severus Snape never did anything he didn’t want to or didn’t have to. 

He turned back to the fire, leaning his head back against the cushion.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start. So much happened.” Hermione finally admitted, turning her gaze back to the fire as well.

“Shall I?” 

Hermione shrugged, even though he wasn’t looking at her.“I suppose.”

“What happened in the Muggle Studies office?” 

Her heart stopped.

For a moment, she felt like she’d lost the ability to breathe.

“If you cannot speak of it, I understand.”

“They tricked me.” She whispered, his words prompting her to try to prove that she was able to do this. If not to him, then to her.

“Maria has sent a letter saying she had fallen and she needed my help. I should have stopped and thought. I didn’t, I was just so worried about her and her…” Hermione stopped, the word hovering on her lips as a tear ran down her cheek. It seemed that she still had some tears to cry after all.

“Child?”

“Yes, her child. I ran to the classroom. The ghosts were trying to stop me, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Ah, yes, the Bloody Baron had said something about it.”

“When I got into the office, she was on the floor, in pain. I went to help her, and she cast a freezing spell on me.”

Hermione paused, closing her eyes as she relived the moment when she knew that something was terribly wrong. She sat there quietly for a few moments, and Severus said nothing, letting the silence linger. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and she was thankful for his patience.

“They had figured out how to get Ron into the castle. She had a ring that turned him into an owl. A large red owl.”

Severus turned now and looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “Obnoxiously red and massive?”

“Yes. Maria had told me that she’d had you deliver secret messages right to him. They had everyone fooled.”

Severus cursed and grabbed his forehead, rubbing it. “So it seems. Don’t let my interruption stop you.”

Hermione nodded, looking back at the fire, it was easier to speak if she wasn’t looking at him.

“Ron started drinking, and she told me what had been going on behind my back. They- they’d been seeing each other for four years. She- She had him start drinking and hitting me to get him to divorce him.” She felt her throat closing, and she had to dig her fingers into the chair to have some kind of control.

“Breath in and out slowly.” Severus offered, still not looking at her. It was as if he could sense that she was more comfortable not being the center of attention. “That doesn’t make sense, because why would they come after you now that you are seeking a divorce.”

Hermione felt more tears running down her face as she shook her head. “That was the plan in the beginning. Then they wanted to keep me around so that they could live off my salary. Ron made enough, so I don’t understand where it all went, but we were always floating because of me.”

“Massive debt, according to the Prophet, and gambling.” Severus offered quietly.

“I know that now, but I didn’t know it then.” It still hurt and burned that she had been so successfully blinded to everything going on around her. He’d kept her in the dark about everything.

She could see him move from the corner of her eye, his hand moving down to his chin. “So you tried to leave, and that threatened their way of life, why try to kill you?”

“I’m not done yet, Severus.” Hermione offered quietly, and the tumble of her stomach made her wince. She wasn’t sure if she could get all of this out.

“Forgive me, continue.”

“Then I got pregnant-” Hermione swallowed hard, a sob threatening to escape her throat. “-because he forced himself on me. I- we weren’t intimate unless- unless he wanted it and I couldn’t stop him. I thought it was the drink.”

Hermione could see that he stiffened in his seat, his hands now gripping the chair's arms.“He was trying to get you pregnant?”

“No! No, he hated that I was pregnant, even though he lied and tried to act like everything was going to get better.” Hermione was crying now more forcefully. “He poisoned me, tried to get me to lose the child, from the very beginning. I didn’t see it, I thought it was accidents because he was trying too hard. I thought- I thought we were finally going to get to be normal.”

Hermione stopped for a few minutes, choking air and coughing as she tried to regain some ability to talk. He said there, tense now, his fingers curled into the leather. It took her longer than she would have liked to be able to continue.

“When it didn’t work when I tried to leave. Ron beat me; he stomped on my stomach. I was five months pregnant with my son. He’s just started kicking, and I could feel him fluttering under my skin. And Ron stomped and stomped and screamed. And then he threw me down the stairs. He thought he’d killed me. It was what he was trying to do.”

Severus was on his feet now, his hands tight in fists, and he had moved to the other side of his chair, pacing. She looked at him, and she could see his face was hard set, his eyes angry. Hermione looked back at the fire, trying to not let fear rise in her. 

“Excuse me for a moment, I need to step out. I will be right back.” Severus said and went to the door. The Medusa, who had been watching, opened it, letting him out.

Hermione exhaled deeply, bringing her knees up to her chest and pushing Crookshanks to the floor. She leaned her head on her knees and started crying, the memory haunting her, now with a new soundtrack of Maria shouting for him to just do it.

He was gone for several minutes, and then he was back, an empty vial in his hand and a second one in the other. He looked less angry, and Hermione could smell the scent of a calming drought on him as he sat. She looked up at him from her knees, wiping her eyes.

“Forgive me. If you feel you can, I will be a better listener now, without my own emotions clouding.”

It was oddly touching that he was so angry that he had to go and get a calming drought to be able to listen to her. It was also a testament to how horrific the events she survived were.

“Where was I?”

“I believe Mr. Weasley had thrown you down the stairs.” He said through closed teeth.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. “I miscarried. I was by myself in a locked bathroom. It was- it was the most horrific- I tried- I tried to save him- he was so small.” Hermione looked at her hands, they were shaking, but she could remember how small he’d been.

A heartwrenching sob left her, her face burying in her knees again.

“I cannot imagine that kind of suffering.” He whispered. “I am certain that you did everything you could have.”

Hermione nodded her head against her knees. “Except leave before it was too late. If I’d come here sooner, my son would have been alive.”

“We cannot change the past, not anymore at least.” Severus offered.

Hermione sobbed, shaking her head. “I should have known.”

“Perhaps, it is best to go back to what you were told in the office. What else did they tell you.”

“He did it because she was pregnant. She wanted to make sure my son was out of the way. And she wanted me gone. She’d told Ron to get stupidly drunk and kill me. He thought he did, so when I came out of the bathroom in the morning, he was surprised. I didn’t realize then that it was because I was alive, and not because of what he had done.” Another wave of tears, another wash of pain. His apology, his pleas for forgiveness, had all been a lie.

“By the time I got enough courage to run, she- they decided I had to die. When I came here, she started to send Ron information about me and what I was doing. I think he knew I was going to be in Hogsmeade before Neville even told him.”

“It seems so. I must give him another apology.” Severus waved his hand toward the fire.

Hermione was amazed by this revelation that Severus was so ready to say he was wrong. It was not something he’d ever been known for.

“Because I worked with her, she had all this information. And Neville had told her about the bracelets, thinking he was protecting me and helping Maria protect me. She knew she was playing everyone for a fool, even you. They knew they had to come here. They had planned to have Ron bash my head in and throw me off the tower, so it looked like I had killed myself.”

Severus’s voice took on a deeper tone. It was faintly angry but more confident than anything. “They failed.”

“I don’t know how, he threw me off. I know I fell, but I don’t know how I got into Ginny’s lap.” Hermione explained, unfolding her legs and looking at him.

“All I remember is seeing you, and then him throwing me.”

Severus was looking at her now. “I caught you.”

“How?” She asked, leaning on the side of the chair, looking at him, eager for answers.

“Broomless flight was taught to all of the death eaters. It made us much more intimidating. Mr. Potter has commissioned Lucius and me to start teaching his Aurors how to do it. I was, fortunately, able to get under you before we both hit the ground.”

“You saved my life.” She gasped, and something dawned on her that made her cover her mouth.

Severus nodded at her, a tickle of a smile at the corner of his lips. “I did.”

This was it, the reason he’d been doing all this. He could finally absolve himself of the debt he felt like he owed her. It was his constant complaint when he’d been infirm. Even after that night, when he demanded she take her payment or leave, he must have still held on to it.

“I suppose your debt is paid then.”

“What are- Ah…” Severus’s face registered that he understood what she’d meant.

“Granger- Hermione, you know, I- I didn’t save you because of- all that.”

Hermione turned her face from him, biting her lips. Her hands went to her knees. She held on to the edge of the robe, twisting it into her hands.

Hermione didn’t want to think about, think about the last time they’d seen each other. She didn’t want to think of his words and how they echo still throughout her bones. She didn’t say anything, turning from him and looking at the wall instead.

“Hermione, I think I owe you an apology.” She heard his breath, and she held up her hand toward him, not looking at him.

“Don't.”

“Why?” He demanded from behind her.

“Don’t say you are sorry for what you said. You meant it, every word. You meant it, and I will not believe you if you tell me now you didn’t. I was stupid and foolish, and you were right. You were right about everything.” She said, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around herself.

“Hermione- I was-” He began, and she had to shut him down.

“I don’t want to hear it!”

She heard him stand up abruptly. “Then, I think I should go.”

“I think you should too.” She said, tears running down her face.

“I will leave this calming draught on your desk.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” It was curt and clipped, and then he was out the door.

* * *

  
**Hermione,**

**I heard what happened! Are you all alright? Is it true? Merlin, I am so sorry. If you need anything that the Prophet or I can do for you, please let me know. Please recover quickly.**

**Your friend,**   
**Romilda**

Hermione sat down at her desk and picked up a quill. She’d already received too many owls asking for details from other nosy people. She knew that if she was going to get any peace at all, she would have to give enough for them to leave her alone. 

She sat down and painstakingly wrote about how hee life had been falling apart.  



	21. History comes to Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> WARNING!!!!  
> There is graphic violence in this scene. Please be advised.
> 
> Also, this may be a very hard chapter to emotionally read and I will say it was very hard to write.  
> It also features mentions of infant loss.

Severus yawned and stretched his arms high in the chair. He’d not planned on dozing off, but it was just the right temperature in the infirmary, and he’d added cushioning charms to the chair. Rolling his neck, getting the kinks out of it, he opened his eyes.

Hermione was not in bed. He stood up, bones popping and groaning as he did so. She was perhaps, in the lavatory, and he wanted to make sure she was doing okay.

Knock. Knock.

“Hermione, are you in there?” He asked quietly. The knocks had echoed, and he pushed the door slightly, seeing there was no light on in it. Lighting the room, he checked to make sure she was not unconscious on the floor. The room was empty. 

_Where had she gone?_

Severus closed his eyes, sinking into the awareness of the castle. He found it was getting more comfortable and more natural to locate her. She was in her rooms.

Severus wondered how long he’d been asleep. Rolling his left shoulder, which was still aching, he made his way through the quiet castle. 

He had always enjoyed the peace of the castle when there were no students. Or at least, when there were few, like now. It meant that he didn’t have to mitigate as much damage or give out detentions that took up his time to work on other things. 

Severus did not rush as he walked, he did not suspect she was in danger, he had a feeling there would be a snake-headed lady finding him if she were. Gliding through the halls, he let the calm and quiet flow into him. It was a balm for a person who had spent to much time with too much noise when he really preferred quiet. It recharged him and let him release any tension leftover from everyone wanting to know how she was doing. It had been a loud couple of weeks. 

Blowing out the air from his mouth, he stopped at the fresco, waiting for the sleeping Medusa to rouse. One of her snakes looked at him and then nodded it’s head, opening the door.

He could see her sitting in the front room, her bushy hair seen over the top of her chair.

  
“If you wanted to relocate, you could have told me.” He spoke quietly to not disturb her more than necessary.

“I needed to think.” 

Severus understood, it was a lot to process, and she’d not had much time for herself. Even he didn’t give her much time to go over things without his presence. If she needed that privacy, Severus would be more than willing to give it to her. He was, after all, a man who valued his own privacy.

“Should I leave you to your thoughts?” He asked. He did not move all the way into the room, ready to leave if she told him that she needed the space.

Her hand pointed to the chair to her left, but he hadn’t seen her face yet. “No, you can stay.” 

He was not going to stay if it was not something she wanted, the way she’d said it made it seem like he was able to stay because she wouldn’t tell him he couldn’t.

“Do you wish me to stay?”

Her quiet pause made him thing it best that he leave her to her own contemplation. As he was preparing to leave, she answered him softly.

“Yes.” 

“Very well.” 

Severus walked around, taking a seat in the offered chair. It was chilly in the room, as she hadn’t been in here for several days. He did not ask her if she wanted a fire, he started it with a flick of his wand. He would need the warmth as old aches and pains had been making their presence known since his bravado display. 

Severus leaned back into the chair, watching the fire burn and letting her collect herself. The fire seemed a welcome distraction, and Severus watched her looking into is. Her face was golden under the light, it danced in her eyes, making the honey undertones in her irises more visible.

“Do you wish to speak, or would you rather I stay silent while you think?” After a moment of staring at her, he asked, enjoying how content her face looked gazing into the inferno.

Her mouth contorted into a weird twist as she looked at him. It was not her regular thinking face, which was sterner. “I’m not sure if I am being honest.”

That was a sensation he was familiar with. In any academic matter that he knew of, Severus could begin and carry a conversation, bearing the other party smart enough to keep up. However, when it came to emotional or mental issues, Severus found himself in that same lost spot. 

Perhaps she wasn’t sure if she needed to talk about it. Severus remembered that sometimes victims of trauma avoided talking about the event out loud because it made it more real.

“Would it help you to talk about what you are feeling? To say it out loud?” Severus posed to her as he looked at the fire. He didn’t want to stare at her because he had a feeling it would unnerve her.

There was another pause. He waited, his hands folded in front of him on his lap with his head against the chair's back. 

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

Surely she didn’t think he was bothered by being here. As much as he was opposed to admitting it, he wanted to be by her side, and he tried to help her, as best and in any way he could. 

He made eye contact, turning to her with open body language and a sincere tone of voice.“Hermione, I would not be here, offering, if I thought it was an imposition on myself.”

He looked back at the fire, trying not to watch as the firelight bounced off the hair and made it shine like bronze.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start. So much happened.” 

  
Severus knew what he wanted to know about, and if she was not opposed, he would happily lead her to get him answers to questions only she could answer.

“Shall I?” 

“I suppose.” He could see her shrug out of the corner of his eye.

This was perhaps a chance to understand more of what he saw that night and the things she’d babbled in her sleep. Some of the things she said didn’t make sense, and some of them made his blood boil.

“What happened in the Muggle Studies office?” 

He could feel her clam up, her breath catching. Severus sat patiently, doing his best to remember what he’d been reading and practice active listening without planning a response.

As the pause went on, he felt like he’d perhaps pushed the issue too fast. “If you cannot speak of it, I understand.”

“They tricked me.” Her words were a quiet whisper like she was afraid of saying it too loud if someone could hear her. He listened carefully, eyes on the fire, and relaxed his body. 

“Maria has sent a letter saying she had fallen and she needed my help. I should have stopped and thought. I didn’t, I was just so worried about her and her…” Hermione’s hesitation and the pause was evidently because she couldn’t say the word. Something about that made him concerned. After a few seconds, he chimed in, offering her the missing word.

“Child?”

It seemed to be what she needed to jump-start herself back into the conversation. “Yes, her child. I ran to the classroom. The ghosts were trying to stop me, but I wouldn’t listen.”

Severus had heard from Minerva that the ghosts had been doing as they asked. They didn’t think they needed to tell either of them that there was someone in the castle, not what they were told to do. Severus had learned a valuable lesson that day. Give precise directions to the ghosts, or don’t ask them to do anything at all.

The Baron was the only one who had thought to do so. But He had been too caught up projecting his darkness spell, trying to keep those in the room inside and unable to act. He’d even tried to deter Hermione, but had failed. Severus told Hermione that he’d heard about it from the Baron.

“When I got into the office, she was on the floor, in pain. I went to help her, and she cast a freezing spell on me.” Her voice trembled, and he could hear the betrayal in it.

He glanced at her, seeing her eyes slammed shut and her face drawn into a deep frown. He looked at the fire, giving her all the time she needed. If it took her all night and day to tell the story, he would sit and wait.

His patience was not something he was known for, but he was exercising it like a muscle, hoping to make it stronger.

“They had figured out how to get Ron into the castle. She had a ring that turned him into an owl. A large red owl.” She finally said, and Severus felt his stomach drop.

Anadora had a red horned owl that he’d given messages to for her. He thought the beast was oddly massive and much too red, but he assumed it was an American owl and thought not much more. He had to know if he’d been giving letters to Ron.

“Obnoxiously red and massive?” He asked her with narrow eyes. Severus wasn’t angry at her, but he felt he’d been played the fool, and he was not appreciative of it.

“Yes. Maria had told me that she’d had you deliver secret messages right to him. They had everyone fooled.”

“Fucking hell.” Severus cursed, pinching his forehead and before rubbing his temples. He’d been played like a fiddle, with Ron sitting there pretending to be an owl and opening mocking him. Severus wanted to hit him again. Then again, Severus woke up every morning and wanted to hit him again. It was just a stronger sensation at the moment. “So it seems. Don’t let my interruption stop you.”

She started speaking again, some of the strength back, but there was still a treble of fear and pain.

“Ron started drinking, and she told me what had been going on behind my back. They- they’d been seeing each other for four years. She- She had him start drinking and hitting me to get him to divorce him.” 

Severus watched as she twisted in her seat from the pain the words brought. He could hear her breaths coming faster, and he knew he needed to offer her comfort.

“Breath in and out slowly.” 

He heard what she said, and he had a hard time rationalizing it. There was something wrong because Hermione was now seeking a divorce, and yet they came after her. _Was there more to this tale?_  
  
“That doesn’t make sense, because why would they come after you now that you are seeking a divorce.”

  
Hermione’s voice was competing with tears as she offered him an explanation. “That was the plan in the beginning. Then they wanted to keep me around so that they could live off my salary. Ron made enough, so I don’t understand where it all went, but we were always floating because of me.”

This he knew about, he’d discovered it when Malfoy went over Ron’s debts and when they had gotten a hold of her account information. Ron Weasley was so in debt that he could not have financially survived the last four years without Hermione.

“Massive debt, according to the Prophet, and gambling.” He had to make sure, for now, that he did not know more than he actually did. 

“I know that now, but I didn’t know it then.” 

He nodded, his hand moving as he spoke, gesturing across the mantelpiece as if Severus were drawing a line between what she said and what he assumed. “So you tried to leave, and that threatened their way of life, why try to kill you?”

“I’m not done yet, Severus.” She whispered. 

He dipped his head, realizing he’d fallen back into the habit of not listening well. “Forgive me, continue.”

There was another pause, and it was heavy, he could feel her struggling to speak from where he sat. He waited, he did not urge forward or try to get her to speak faster.

“Then I got pregnant-” A noise of pain escaped her throat, and his heart twisted.“-because he forced himself on me. I- we weren’t intimate unless- unless he wanted it and I couldn’t stop him. I thought it was the drink.”

The rush of anger was so fast that it nearly caught him off caught. He had suspected the boy had been forceful with her, but to hear it, to know it to be truth was another beast. Severus grabbed the chair with his hands, exhaling to try to center himself and take control of what he was feeling, rather than the other way around.

“He was trying to get you pregnant?” From what she had said, that is what he had gathered. _The idiot was trying to get her to be with child, but why?_

“No! No, he hated that I was pregnant, even though he lied and tried to act like everything was going to get better.” Her tears came like fountains, and every word was punctuated with a soft cry. Severus had a tough time staying in his seat. His gut wanted to pull her up into his arms and hold her until there were no tears. But he knew that she didn’t need that right now, she needed him to listen. 

“He poisoned me, tried to get me to lose the child, from the very beginning. I didn’t see it, I thought it was accidents because he was trying too hard. I thought- I thought we were finally going to get to be normal.”

The coughing and choking on her tears made him curl his fingers into the chair deeper. Weasley had hurt her so bad that Severus wasn’t even sure that Azkaban was sufficient punishment. He wanted him to hurt like she was hurting in front of Severus now.

“When it didn’t work when I tried to leave. Ron beat me; he stomped on my stomach. I was five months pregnant with my son. He’s just started kicking, and I could feel him fluttering under my skin. And Ron stomped and stomped and screamed. And then he threw me down the stairs. He thought he’d killed me. It was what he was trying to do.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Severus was on his feet before he could stop himself. He was sorry he hadn’t killed the man, Severus was sorry that he hadn’t ripped his guts out in front of him and force-fed them to him. The white-hot rage running through his veins was screaming against what he had just heard—what man, what man in the world would do that his own child.

Severus paused in his angry pacing, a wash of resentment accompanying the anger. The kid of man who would try to kill his own child was exactly like the kind of man his own father was. Everything was hitting a critical level of anger, and he looked at her and could see he was adversely affecting her.

“Excuse me for a moment, I need to step out. I will be right back.” He said, walking out the door, grateful that the Medusa did not give him an issue.

He stomped the whole way down to the dungeons, flying into the Potions classroom like he still owned it. Severus was in such a foul mood now, his teeth gritting as he threw open the supply closet. He looked, and everything was out of order. At least, his order. He couldn’t find what he was looking for, and he made a sound of frustration.

“Can I help you, Severus?” Horace said, coming out of his office in a hurry. 

Severus shook his head and pinching his nose while looking at the shelves.

“I. Need. A. Calming. Draught. NOW.” He snarled slowly, pointing at the supply room with so much disgust that he thought Horace might shrink out of existence.

“Oh dear, oh, I suppose that Miss Granger is having another of her fits, poor girl,” Horace said, sliding past Severus and hoisting himself up on the ladder. “Can you imagine Severus, that kind of madness, from her own husband. I thought the boy was a bit of a loose screw, never had him as one of mine, oh no. Her, she is brilliant, one of the best of her age. Poor girl.”

Severus bit his tongue, trying to stem the anger that was not this pudgy little man’s fault. “Horace.” 

“Yes, Severus,” Horace answered, leaning over dangerously to look at a shelf.

“Shut up.”

The man turned and looked at him, and Severus crossed his arms, looking at the floor and trying to count backward in his head from 100. 

“Ah, I see, yes. Caladium, Calcium, Calming, right here we go.” The man bubbled along.

He brought two down, and Severus snatched one from his hand, popping the cork with one thumb, not caring where it fell and downed the whole vial himself. The mint tingled and ran down the back of his throat, which had been tight from holding back the anger threatening to explode from him. Severus closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling, counting as he let the potion do its job of dulling the emotional firestorm.

“Here, a second for Miss Granger. I have a new batch that will be ready on the morrow, so don’t worry about using too much of the supply.” Slughorn continued, now hovering around Severus.

Once he was ready, he looked down at Horace and politely took the second one. 

“Thank you.” He managed and turned to walk away.

“Oh, of course, anytime.” He could hear the man behind him. 

Severus did not stop to chatter with him. Instead, he entirely focused on doing what he had set out to do. He was going to find out what had been said, and he was going to do his best to help Hermione through whatever it brought on. He didn’t want her to get better for him, he wanted her better for herself because if anyone deserved a chance to have their own life, it was her.

  
The door opened for him again without hesitation, a snake nodding at him. 

Severus found her curled up in the chair, her arms around her like she was protecting herself. He cleared his throat as he spoke. “Forgive me. If you feel you can, I will be a better listener now, without my own emotions clouding.”

He held the calming draught in his hand in case she needed it, or if he needed another.

“Where was I?” Her words we a bare whisper.

Severus gritted his teeth, still feeling the outrage of what he’d heard. “I believe Mr. Weasley had thrown you down the stairs.” 

Severus started gazing back to the fire to not make her feel like she was on the spot.

“I miscarried. I was by myself in a locked bathroom. It was- it was the most horrific- I tried- I tried to save him- he was so small.” Her voice was small and helpless.

He looked at her, watching how she was looking at her hands as if something was there. Severus knew that she was remembering holding her child. The mournful sob that left her was excruciating for as she pressed her face back into her knees.

He could clearly imagine the scene, and there was a rock in his throat as he realized what she’d been through. Her son did not die, he was murdered, and she alone was there to witness and deal with it. He was amazed she was sane at all, he couldn’t imagine he would be.

At first, Severus had no words. In all the things he had seen and done in his life, he could not fathom the loneliness and pain she’d gone through. So instead of trying to think of something, he was honest with her.

“I cannot imagine that kind of suffering.” He breathed out, trying to be there for her. “I am certain that you did everything you could have.”

“Except leave before it was too late. If I’d come here sooner, my son would have been alive.” She talked like she blamed herself, hated herself for what had happened. Severus supposed she did; he remembered how on the balcony he could see her desire for absolution from his death.

“We cannot change the past, not anymore at least.” It was all he could say, as he had no frame of reference for this. 

“I should have known.” She stated between sobs, her shoulders shaking as she hid in her knees.

He needed to find a way to ease her suffering, if only for a moment. Perhaps a conversation change, a direction that did not lead her to this despair.

“Perhaps, it is best to go back to what you were told in the office. What else did they tell you.” He asked, hoping that it would rouse her to a conversation and help her breathe more easily.

“He did it because she was pregnant. She wanted to make sure my son was out of the way. And she wanted me gone. She’d told Ron to get stupidly drunk and kill me. He thought he did, so when he came out of the bathroom in the morning, he was surprised. I didn’t realize then that it was because I was alive, and not because of what he had done.” 

Another rock arrived, this time in his stomach. She had said that he’d try to kill her, and while Severus believed her and understood it to be true, it didn’t quite hit home until now. Ron had left her to die at the bottom of the stairs and never returned to check on her. He’d been so callous and cold-hearted that he was content to let her die alone and in pain. 

He desperately wanted to hit the man. Even with his muted emotions, the strength of his rage was able to be felt. At least he could control it now, and listen to her without losing his temper.

“By the time I got enough courage to run, she- they decided I had to die. When I came here, she started to send Ron information about me and what I was doing. I think he knew I was going to be in Hogsmeade before Neville even told him.” Hermione offered.

What she said made sense. It had been Anadora who made sure that Hermione went to Honeydukes, where Ron had finally made his move to get her. Severus had attacked Neville verbally for something that would have happened with or without his involvement.

“It seems so. I must give him another apology.” Severus interjected. 

“Because I worked with her, she had all this information. And Neville had told her about the bracelets, thinking he was protecting me and helping Maria protect me. She knew she was playing everyone for a fool, even you. They knew they had to come here. They had planned to have Ron bash my head in and throw me off the tower, so it looked like I had killed myself.”

Hearing what they had tried to do to her made him feel relieved that he had been there on time. He told her, his voice resonating with the definite tone of assurance. “They failed.”

“I don’t know how, he threw me off. I know I fell, but I don’t know how I got into Ginny’s lap. All I remember is seeing you, and then him throwing me.”

“I caught you,” Severus said, a smile trying to push it’s way to his lips. He’d been able to save her, and he was proud and happy about it.

“How?” She asked. Severus watched as the sadness took second place to her curious nature and her drive to learn. He had to keep from smiling again.

“Broomless flight was taught to all of the death eaters. It made us much more intimidating. Mr. Potter has commissioned Lucius and me to start teaching his Aurors how to do it. I was, fortunately, able to get under you before we both hit the ground.”

“You saved my life.” She covered her mouth with a gasp, and her expression changed. He wasn’t sure if it was happiness or something else.

“I did.” He proudly agreed.

Her eyes started moving like she was thinking rapidly. Severus could see the gears moving behind her eyes, and he wanted to know what had inspired this rapid-fire thought.

“I suppose your debt is paid then.”

Severus was confused for a moment.

“What are- Ah…” Then it hit him. She was talking about the debt that he’d ascribed to her year ago. When he’d been angry and jealous and full of self-loathing. When he wanted her to stay but knew he could not keep her there.

“Granger- Hermione, you know, I- I didn’t save you because of- all that.” He tried to plead, his face dropping all sense of a smile or pride. Severus had not saved her out of some notion of tit-for-tat, but because he genuinely cared for her. 

He watched as she retreated from him, her body closing back up as she twisted her fingers into the edge of her robe. Severus could see the anxiety and the pain on her face.

He had to make this write, he had to tell her why and what had happened. She didn’t need to know that he loved her, but she needed to see that he hadn’t meant to crush her feelings.

“Hermione, I think I owe you an apology.” His voice was shaking now, and he could hold only a whisper.

“Don't.” Her words were hard and clipped.

He demanded to know what she would not let him explain.“Why?” 

“Don’t say you are sorry for what you said. You meant it, every word. You meant it, and I will not believe you if you tell me now you didn’t. I was stupid and foolish, and you were right. You were right about everything.” Hermione snapped. He watched as she coiled around herself, shaking.

What he’d said had been horrible, but he didn’t think it’d had that drastic effect on her. He didn’t think he was right about everything now, Severus knew that there was so much more that he had missed and that in his own way, he was just as responsible for her running to Ron as Molly Weasley. At least, the first time.

“Hermione- I was-” He pleaded, trying to get her to understand.

She shouted at him. “I don’t want to hear it!”

“Then, I think I should go.” He stood up. Severus could not cope at this moment, with what was going on. He desperately wanted to make it right, he tried to make her see that those were words of a sad and angry man.

“I think you should too.” She cried, and he felt himself shrink. He’d been the cause of these tears. 

Severus walked to her desk and put the draught on the table. “I will leave this calming draught on your desk.”

“Thank you.” It had no gratitude in it.

“You’re welcome.” He replied curtly and left her to her thoughts.

Even under the calming draught, Severus was so mad at himself that he needed to let it out. He kicked the wall with his shoe, snarling, and having himself a proper fit before he calmed. He needed to go someplace, he needed to be someplace with his thoughts and try to figure out how to fix this. 

He went to his rooms, someplace he hadn’t been in a while. Severus poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, indulging himself when he’d been abstaining. 

He hadn’t wanted to talk to her about it before when she was open to it, and now, she wanted the matter closed. Severus had been a complete fool, and if Molly Weasley had not meddled, that night would have gone so much differently.

  
He heard the door open a crack, he’d been waiting. Stewing on what he wanted to say, on what he needed to do. Severus was a man of little patience, and when he needed to do something painful, he would rather rip off the bandage than do it slowly. Minerva had given up waiting, turning into a cat, and wandering the castle.

“Hello, I’m back.” Hermione peered in, looking around the room, and her face shifted to a smile. “Oh thank god she isn’t here, you would not believe the night I had. How are you, did you get your potions?” 

“I am fine, and yes, I did.”

“Oh, you sound cross. Was she irritating?” Hermione asked, dropping her purse and collapsing into the chair next to his bed. 

She looked beautiful, a long dress that hugged her curves in crushed blue velvet. It was evident that Hermione had dressed up for the occasion. He saw no ring on her finger, and that made him swallow hard.

“Your future-mother-in-law informed me of how momentous tonight was.” He snapped, sitting to the edge of the bed.

She laughed, a full, heady laugh. 

He could tell she’d had a little to drink. Not much, but enough that she seemed relaxed and at ease.

“She is no future-mother-in-law of mine. I told Ron no. You had to have known I would.” She said, smiling at him. 

  
He did not smile back. 

  
“Why on earth would you have done that?” He asked, his tone cold. He could not show her compassion, he had to turn her from him. If she were to have a life that she truly deserved, he would have to chase her away so that she never returned.

“Don’t be daft. You know why.” She said, kicking off her heels in the seat.

“No, Miss Granger, illuminate me.”

“Miss Granger… wow, she really did foul your mood. I told you, I don’t feel it with him. He is too much and not enough. I don’t desire him.” Hermione offered, sitting up straight and looking at him.

“And what is it you do desire?” He rumbled, looking at her pointedly.

She stood up, crossing over to the bed, taking a seat next to him. “What has gotten into you. You are not normally this cross with me.”

She placed her hand on his hand, and he snatched away like he’d been burned. Hurt ran across her face. “Perhaps, Miss Granger, that is because I have been made aware of your real machinations of saving my life.”

She looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about. We have been over this, I have no machinations, I don’t want anything from you. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

Hermione shook her head at him, looking at him like he’d lost a touch of his mind.

“I am not a fool, Miss Granger, do not assume that I am.” He snapped, pointing his finger in her face. 

She leaned back from his invasion of her space, her expression incredulous. “Merlin, what the fuck did she say to you?”

He leveled a dark gaze at her, his face hard and angry. He had to do this, if not for himself, for her. “Nothing. While you were being proposed to, it was in my time that I came to this discovery.”

“I don’t know what you think you have discovered, but you are wrong.” She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head as she tapped her temple.

“Do I need to spell it out, girl.” Severus snarled angrily.

At that, she jerked her head up, glaring now with hurt pride.“I am not a girl, and you know I do not like it when you do that.”

“Yes, you are not a girl now, you are a woman. That is part of the fantasy, isn’t it.” He let his gaze fall over her, doing his best to look as lecherous as possible. He both hated himself and commended himself for his acting skills.

She stood up in reaction to his gaze, her hands on her hips. “What?”

Severus held his hand up like he was cradling a bottle of wine as he spoke, his tone insulting and demeaning. “It is really juvenile, Miss Granger, for you to have gone through all this, for some silly schoolgirl fantasy.”

He could see her getting riled up, he’d managed to get her angry, not he just needed to make her hate him and leave and never come back. If he could do that, he could save her from the lifetime of sadness that the path she tried to follow would lead her.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Hermione stomped her foot like a child, her fist balled up.

Severus stood up and bellowed at her. “Do not take me for a fool!”

“I will if you are so foolish to act like one.” Both her hands went to her hips. Even though she had the exterior of not being affected by his voice, he could see the touch of feat in her eyes.

He got close to her face, a growling whisper leaving his lips. “Miss Granger, I know what you want.”

“If you know, fucking tell me, because I have no idea what you are talking about.” Hermione snapped back.

Severus grabbed her head and kissed her hard. Not a gentle, sweet, or kind kiss, but one that was meant to punish and attack.

Hermione pushed him back, sending him flying back to the bed. “What the fuck.”

“That is what this is. Some chance for you to indulge in a fantasy, to have saved your surly professor in the hopes that your kindness will turn him into a better man and then have him take you.” He panted, glaring at her. 

“Merlin, you’ve lost your fucking mind.” She said, holding her head with her hands and looking at him like he was some kind of experiment gone wrong.

“Have I Granger? Have you not been increasingly intimate with me. Testing the waters, trying to see how accepting I am of your touch.” Severus asked. He knew that he was right because he had been letting her touch him more. He couldn’t admit that he liked it, not with how this had to play out, but he was using the truth to tear her down.

“You are being ridiculous.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, holding himself so that even sitting, he was imposing. “I think not. I think you are displeased that your little fantasy was ousted before you got the chance to earn your way into my heart.”

“Where did this come from?” Hermione was obviously confused, and she tried looking at him for some answers, some kind of reason. Severus could read it on her face as if she were saying the words.

“You have spent your entire educational career trying to get acknowledgment from me. Saw a chance to earn it and took it. You have been wandering this infirmary, watching me with lusting eyes, and I know it. Do you deny it?” He pointed at her, shaking his finger at her.

“Severus, please, you are acting irrationally.”

He could tell that she was trying to calm him and placate him until she could unravel what had caused this. But Severus had made up his mind, and he was willing to do what he needed to do to make sure this planned out according to what had to be done.

He stood up, moving into her space again as he spoke. “Granger, let me make this clear. If that is your price for my life, then go on, take it.”

Severus grabbed her hip, pulling her close to his body as he challenged her with his eyes. He did his best to not think more about what he was doing, putting all thought on why this had to be the way. If he was going to make sure she lived a happy life, he had to make her not want him.

Hermione pushed him away again, this time take several steps back as he crashed into the bed frame. “What the fuck is wrong with you.”

“Is this not your end goal. Or shall I pretend to grovel and speak sweet nothings in your ear? Shall I worship you and tell you that I am changed man, and you’ve made my heart into gold? Is that what you need?” He cupped his hands and made a mock face of sweetness as he got to his feet.

“I need you to sit down over there and stop touching me.” She stammered, pointing to the bed.

  
She was putting distance between them, and Severus knew he could not get up to her anymore of the physical charades. In addition to that, Hermione had explicitly told him to stop touching her, and try as he might, he didn’t think he would be able to, in this state, keep doing so against her will. He had limits, and he didn’t want to hurt her like that, he just wanted to chase her away.

No, now he needed to break her down, remind her why she hated him as a child.

“Your act is commendable. But I knew when you said you were thinking of leaving Ron, the only man who has seriously taken an interest in you, that you were doing so because you thought that someone else would want you. Are you so daft Granger, to think that I would be the one that wanted you.” He spit the words like they were poison on his lips.

“I- I-”

He opened his arms dramatically, turning to an invisible crowd to show her flaws to the world. “See, stunned to silence because the great plot has been unraveled.” 

“Stop it.” Hermione had a tear running down her face. It wasn’t enough to get her to run.

“Granger, you must face this reality, sooner or later, so let me be the one to let you know how the world works. You are not beautiful, you are not pretty, you are not any of the things the world cares for on the outside. The only thing that is of any import to anyone around you is that brilliant mind.” Severus listed off, glaring at her as he chastised her.

“Please stop.” It was a quiet plea, but he ignored it.

Severus continued his tirade against her, attacking the things that he knew would break her down. “But that brilliant mind is tempered with your insufferable chatter and your insistent need to be both right and to have people tell you that you are right. Do you really think that anyone else but poor stupid Ronald is going to want to marry you?”

“Severus, stop.”

He stood up again, towering at her.“That is Snape to you. This whole fantasy that you have built-in this room Granger is over.” He swept his arm across himself to show the end of it. “The nursing me back to health so that I can lust for you and take you as my thanks plot is exposed.”

“No.” She breathed, and her arms were around herself now. He was getting closer to breaking her to getting her to cave and run away. He should know how to do this, he’d done it to people his whole life.

“If you want sex as payment Granger, then all means, speak up. I’ve whored myself out to Dumbledore and Voldemort, who used me for what they desired. While not in the carnal sense with them, how is this any different than that.” Severus made the comparisons knowing how they would make her feel. She feared what a great mind could do if it got lost along the way to knowledge and what they thought was right.

“You are wrong?”

“Am I, girl?” Severus barked, holding his cane now and pointing it at her. If he was going to keep standing, he would need it.

“Severus.” Hermione pleaded, and he glared at her like he wanted to set her on fire.

“You forget, I am a skilled Legilimens. I can see what you want, and your walls have been open to me for some time now. I have watched your idle fantasies of kissing me. I have been party to your lewd thoughts. You cannot hide them from me.” He breathed. Not a word of it was a lie, he knew that the girl had been falling for him for some time. He’d never told her that he knew, but he did.

“You invaded my mind?” She gasped, holding her hand over her heart.

“Yet, you do not deny it.” Severus snarled.

“You invaded my mind? Severus, you, you, I thought you-” Hermione gasped and stumbled over her words. He could see her mind working, trying to find some sense, something to use to stop this madness. 

Severus knew it for what it was. This was sheer madness, but it was what was needed.

“What, that I shared such desires. Most days Granger, I indulge your idle touching because it makes you shut the hell up.” He screamed at her, his fist clenched.

“You could have said something before.”

He threw his hand in the air, looking at her with exasperation. “I do all the time. I tell you to shut up sometimes fifty times a day, and yet do you? No, you do not. You prattle and prattle, and it can make a man insane. Any man who married you will be insane. And here you are, throwing away your chance with the one man who might be able to stomach you for the rest of your life, for some schoolgirl crush.”

There were more tears, and she had begun to breathe faster. “Why are you saying this?”

“Because it is the truth, and I am tired of sitting here, waiting for you to get the nerve to take what you want. Here I am, Granger. If this is what you want, then I am your willing servant.” He opened his arms, expectant of her to make some kind of move.

She took a step back, her hands out defensively, her head shaking. “It’s not what I want.”

“Then what did you expect was going to happen, fool girl? I am not a nice man; I am not someone who your pure heart bullshit can turn into a shining prince. I know who I am, I know what I am good for. You, however, hold yourself to a much higher esteem than you actually are. If you were the last witch on the planet and I was the last wizard, I would not even be that desperate to desire you then.”

“Please stop.” She begged, and he wanted to so desperately. 

Everything inside of him wanted to apologize, but he knew what he had to do. He used that frustration, the sheer unfairness of the situation, and used it to fuel this attack. He had to make her not love him, he had to make sure Hermione got a real chance in the world.

“I will not stop, and your tears are meaningless. You think crying will save you from the inevitable time that you are no longer useful. Do you think Potter is going to keep you around once you can’t be the one who saves the day for him? You are a tool, and once they are done with you, they will throw you away.”

“That is not true,” Hermione yelled, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking on the balls of her feet.

“I do not lie about these things. You are wasting my time and my patience.”

“This isn’t happening.” Hermione cried, breathing hard.

He made a sinister smile run across his face, trying to look ruthless and malicious.“Yes, it is. I know I have shaken your master plan loose, but you have to learn to adapt if you are going to stay useful.”

“I can’t believe I am hearing this.”

Severus sat on the bed, spreading his legs and opening his arms as he looked at her with the same twisted smile. “Well, you are. Now, you have a chance, right now, to make your little twisted fantasy a reality.”

“No,” Hermione said firmly, almost growling it.

“If you do not take this chance, I will consider it abandoned debt, and I will owe you nothing.” Severus mocked, shaking his head.

“You already owe me nothing.” Her eyes were angry and fierce, and he could see that she was so close to going over the edge between angry and sad. He had to make sure he got her both.

“A life debt, you fool. I owe you for my life, and if this is your price, I will pay for it.” He shouted, holding his chin up.

Hermione turned her back from him, shaking her head. He could see she was crying, her shoulders were shaking. He had to strike now.

  
“Granger, you will never know love. You will never know what it is that all the women who are prettier than you do. You don’t deserve it. You are too proud, too demanding, too grating to the nerves.” Severus prayed he was lying, he prayed that all she had was love, but it could not be from him. 

“You are a cruel bastard.”

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands in the bed. “Yes, but at least I know my place in the world. I’m not trying to be what I am not.”

“Neither am I.” She snarled, turning around to look at him. The fire was there, the rage that could shake the world if it were ever let loose.

“Granger, you are so stupid and naive and stubborn. I have lived in this world, I know what it does to people who don’t fit the picture of perfection. If you don’t marry that boy, you might get used to being alone because no one else is going to come around and want you.” He tormented her more, knowing now that all of his words were hitting home. She was shaking with rage and emotions.

“I hate you.” She hissed, and he knew that he had gotten to her. 

He knew that he was in the home stretch of getting her just where he wanted her. He grinned at her then, not a pleasant one. “And yet, your sick little mind still wants to fuck me.”

“No, I don’t.” Her hands were in fists, and she walked toward him. He was afraid that she might punch him. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand up against that. He’d heard from Draco about her right hook.

He leaned forward, smiling like an evil Cheshire as she marched forward.

“Then get out Granger. Get out of here and don’t come back. If you do, I will just remind you of who you really are. You are a sad, sorry little muggle-born who desperately wants to be seen as important when you are really insignificant. You want to be the best, and you hide in your books because you cannot compete anywhere else. You will be outdone, out planned, outmaneuvered at every turn. You will be looked over and passed over for things you would have gotten if you were prettier or more pleasing to listen to.”

Hermione snatched up her purse and her wand. “You are wrong.”

“I am never wrong about these things. You are worthless, Granger. Worthless to me and to anyone else who might take a fancy in you.”

“I hope you choke on your words.” She snatched up her shoes and her books. Hermione shrunk the books, putting them in the small blue purse.

He let her storm to the door, watching every step she took away from him. It was pain, but it was a pain he was willing to carry.

“If you walk out that door Granger, this offer is gone. You will never be able to tell me I owe you anything in the future.” He shouted when she had her hand on the handle.

Hermione looked at him full of malice and hate. “I don’t want your stupid debt. I wanted to do what was right, but Ron was right, I was just protecting a monster.”

“I am what you made me to be.” He intoned with a smile.

“Go to hell.” She opened the door to leave the room.

“I’ve been there, it’s been here with you for a year. Anything else would be heaven.” He yelled after her, and the door slammed shut. 

The slam echoed through the room, and he was then left alone with the quiet. It wasn’t the usual quiet, where he was waiting for something or someone as it were to come to fill the space. It was the deafening silence of him sealing his own face and pushing away another person that cared about him.

Looking up, Severus finally noticed that he had not been alone and that Minerva had, in fact, not gone to roam the castle. 

There was a brown tabby, with markings around her eyes, glaring at him.

Severus shook himself from the nightmare that was the reality of what he’d said to her. He’d been wrong, he’d been manipulated. Severus had only wanted her to go on and have a happy life, where he didn’t drag her down and make her lose precious years caring for him. 

What he’d done instead was send her into the arms of a monster who stole those years from her anyways. 

“I am the biggest idiot.” He groaned, downing the rest of the whiskey.


	22. Stage 1: Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

For the rest of the Holiday break, for two whole weeks, Hermione stayed in her rooms. 

She did not see Severus, as he did not come to visit her, and she did not seek him out.

It wasn’t that she was angry with him, but she could not bear to have him there. An old wound had been ripped anew. With the realization that Severus had paid his ‘debt,’ Hermione was brought to the realization that he had no more reason to treat her with kindness. That mingled with the pain of what had transpired, the dread of upcoming events, and the well of darkness that she felt threatening her at every turn, Hermione could not see him.

Her mind would break if he became that same bitter man that she’d run away from.

Either she was right, and he had no desire to be there because he had gotten what Severus wanted, or he sensed she didn’t want to see him. Any of her pain potions were given by Queenie, who was more than happy to bring them to her.

But Hermione could not sit idly in her rooms. 

Something had awoken within her.

In the quiet, she realized that she needed to be ready. 

A manic desire to know everything about divorce in the wizarding world consumed her.

In this stillness, when the storm had abated, she needed to understand what challenges lay ahead. She did what she knew to do best when she was posed with a problem.

Research. Theorize.

After all, all she was ever going to be good for was her mind. 

She’d won a war with her mind.

She’d walked with her friends through hell with nothing but her mind.

She’d given beings that were treated as sub-human equal rights with her mind.

She’d been told that if she set her mind to something, nothing could stop her.

Hermione Granger had never met a problem that she couldn’t unravel, and her impending divorce hearing would not find her unprepared.

In the quiet sanctum of her room, she ignored her nagging sadness, the spiraling darkness that haunted every silent moment. Hermione ignored the fact that she wasn’t eating, that she wasn’t sleeping. Unless she was being chided by The Medusa or Queenie, she did neither.

A single-minded focus became her shield against all the things she didn’t want to feel. Instead of looking at what had happened to her as something she’d experienced, she wrote it out like it had been something she’d observed. 

She focused on facts. 

Hermione did everything she could to subtract emotion from the situation as she wrote her statements. She wrote them over and over until they were perfect. And then she wrote them again. Discarded and crumpled paper covered the floor by her desk.

She’d had Queenie fetch her a book from the library on marriage law. She read it cover to cover, twice. 

She didn’t sleep until she could quote the conditions for being granted a divorce by heart until she knew the statistics for granted divorces in the last fifty years. 51 wizard started, 26 blood status disputes, 5 witch started. 

Even then, she didn’t sleep.

She practiced her speeches; she repeated the words of what had happened until they didn’t have any meaning anymore. Until she didn’t sob when she spoke about giving birth to her son on the floor. Until she could talk about being thrown off the tower without vomiting. 

She paced the room, saying her truth to the empty room until it wasn’t real anymore. It wasn’t her life, it was a story, a tale that only she could deliver.

  
She pretended that Molly was there as she spoke about what her son had done. Conjuring illusions to make it more real. She acted as if she were reciting it to Ron, looking the shadowy figure of him until looking him in the eyes didn’t budge her heart. She stared at Maria in the eyes until she didn’t feel gutted.

  
Hermione was not going to let this destroy her.   
Hermione had given enough.   
She had sacrificed everything, and she wasn’t going to give the world anymore.  
They didn’t deserve her tears.

Her tears weren’t going to save her from the harsh realities of the world. 

When it did hurt, when something tore at her, that is what she focused on. 

Severus had been right if she was still alive when she should be by all rights dead, then it was her time to do things on her terms.

She built walls around the feelings until there was nothing she could say to make them fall. Hermione wanted a castle around her heart, where no one could ever get to her again. She wanted it so thick that she felt nothing. Every time she felt numb, she counted it as a triumph.

Hermione did her best to not think of Severus, even as his words of that fateful night wrapped themselves around her thoughts and would hold them hostage. They’d haunted her before, but now they were a poltergeist. 

He’d been right, he’d been right about everything.

The more she thought about what he wanted to apologize for, the more she obsessed about it. Even when she didn’t want to, it made its way into every statement, every speech, every scream. 

Except, sometimes, it wasn’t Severus’s voice she heard echoing the words in the walls of her skull. 

It was Ron’s,   
-it was Molly’s.   
It was Maria’s, her laugh flooding into her brain.

And when it would bring her to her knees, she would force herself to work on something else. She needed to have her evidence gathered, she needs a list of witnesses. 

Hermione wrote letters to those that she thought we be helpful. 

Draco responded the same day, giving her the contact for his lawyer and telling her that it was the least he could do, and he would offer her anything else she needed. He would be there to talk about Ron’s debt and gambling problems.

Ginny had promised to be there to talk about the first time that she’d left Ron, how she’d shown up on their doorstep, sobbing and confused.

Romilda has promised her exclusive magazine space to talk about the divorce after it was done.

Viktor promised to stay around the castle to make her feel safe. He said he had a reason to stay now. 

And when there was quiet, and she had nothing more she could work on in that day, she wrote in her journal. She wrote everything down as far as she could see. 

Hermione wrote about the betrayal she felt and how everything she thought she was, wasn’t real. She’d loved a man who didn’t exist, and now she was left feeling like she was a ghost. 

She wrote about her guilt, she wrote about her stubbornness and how she should have seen the signs. How she should have known.

Hermione went non-stop. If she stopped, she would fall off the precipice of chaos consuming the ground beneath her. She was building new ground with her words.

Severus had been right. She was foolish and naive and stupid, and she’d proved him right.

Instead of choking on his words, she had.

* * *

Her first day of classes, Hermione was up before the dawn. 

It had been in part to the fact that she hadn’t been able to sleep well. She’d tried, but it was of no use. 

Nightmares plagued her, darkness reaching up and swallowing her. A woman screaming, ‘Just do it.’

She awoken in cold sweats and trembling.

  
Leaving the room felt odd. 

Hermione had cocooned herself up in the space, and walking the halls after 14 days being secluded made her a bit agoraphobic.

She stood pacing in front of the -her classroom, someplace she hadn’t entered since everything had happened. The doors had been fixed, but that didn’t mean she was afraid of what she would feel when she went inside.

Hermione paced for two hours back and forth, trying to summon the courage to open the door and go in.

  
“Hermione.” A thick Bulgarian accent called to her, and she stopped, turning to see Viktor watching her pace.

“Viktor. How long- when did you get here?”

“I never left, I’ve been about in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade Village. You never came to meals. I was vorried.” He opened his arms for an embrace, and she rushed to him, letting him squeeze her in a bear hug.

“I have been trying to get to see you. Every time you were hurt or hiding. You should have told me, Hermione. I vould have taught him better for you.”

“I’m just happy you are here.” She breathed into his shoulder.

He put her down and pointed at her feet, asking her with concern. “So vot is all zis vith the pacing.”

Hermione looked at the door, rubbing her elbows as she tried to put the words into form. Anxiety started to rise in her. She hadn’t practiced telling Viktor, and it seemed she should have. “This is where they captured me, and it is my classroom.”

Viktor looked at the door and then down at her, giving her a soft smile. “Are you afraid?”

Hermione looked at the door, then back at him. This was Viktor. Viktor saved her from the black lake. Viktor was one of the people she trusted, so she admitted to him that she was. “Yes, I am terrified.”

Viktor seemed to straighten up at this, and he walked to the door, putting his hand on the handle. “Zen, I vill take you in zere, vot do you have to fear with me here, hmm?”

Even though it was him touching the door, she felt her chest seize up. Perhaps some of that time she spent working on her divorce case should have been on this. She could feel a swell of panic, but she breathed in deeply, pushing it back. “Okay, just let me catch my breath.”

He stood there, not waiting very long before he asked her. “Are you ready?”

It was time to prove that all the work she’d done over the break had actually meant something. “Yes.”

“Hold my hand. I vill show you zat zere is nothing zat can harm you in here.” He held out his large hand, and she took it, squeezing it as he opened the door. 

Hermione had expected it to be dark in there, as it had been when she was there last. Instead, there was light starting to stream into the windows. It looked like a typical classroom, not somewhere that she’d been mentally tortured in.

“See, isn’t zis better zan valking a hole into ze stone,” Viktor asked her, giving her a beaming smile.

She still felt tense, but it wasn’t as overpowering as she had suspected it to be. “I- Yes- it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Good. You just needed some help. Are you hungry, Hermione?” He asked, still holding on to her hand. 

She still looked around the room, trying to not look at the office door. “Not really.”

“Nonsense, you look like you’ve not eaten vell in a veek. Come, have breakfast vith me, and I vill tell you about vot I have been doing in Bulgaria.” Viktor said, shifting so that he was in catching her gaze. He gave her a silly smile, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at him.

“Alright. You’ve convinced me. Let’s go.”

At that moment, Severus walked into the room. “Hermio- ah- I had come to see if you were having any difficulties in this room, but it seems they are under control.” He had a touch of a smile on his face when he walked in, and Hermione saw it drop instantly as he looked at their joined hands, the visage of hard Severus Snape taking its place. He turned his heel and marched away quickly.

“Severus, wait-” She called, rushing to the door, but he was already halfway down the stairs.

  
“Vot vas zat about?” Krum asked, coming to look over her shoulder.

Hermione rubbed her forehead, looking up at him. “We had a disagreement.”

“And he is mad?”

“Likely.” Hermione sighed, her shoulders dropping.

Viktor sighed with her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “That man is strong. He- he hit like my beaters and was nearly as hard to get off.”

“He hit you?” She spun around, baffled.

Viktor smiled at her, it was a cocky grin. “No, Hermione, he hit zat otrepka of a husband of yours.”

“Oh.” Hermione’s face dropped at the mention of the event, and Viktor retook her hand, leading her into the hallway.

“Now, my skŭp, breakfast awaits.” Hermione let him guide her by the hand. 

“I wonder, would you do me a favor this weekend?” She asked, walking at his side. It was comfortable, like days long gone. They were different people then, just kids, but it was nice to feel that right now.

“For you, I vill do anything you ask of me.” Krum chimed, kissing her hand as they walked. Hermione smiled at the easy affection that Viktor always had with her.

“Will you take me to Diagon Alley. I don’t want to go alone, and I have some things I need to get.”

Hermione needed to get a lot of things, but also to see her lawyer. And face the world after all of this had happened. And she needed to personally hug Romilda, who had successfully stopped most of the owls from coming to her with her article.

“It vill be my pleasure, but vhy don’t you ask Professor Snape? Isn’t he, your- friend? He cares a great deal about you.” Viktor said, and she noticed the hesitance. Viktor thought there was something too. If he only knew how that was never going to happen.

She gave a careful tilt of her head, it was best to not worry Viktor about. “I don’t want to be a bother. And I think I may have made him really upset, so he may not want to go with me.”

“I zee. I vill happily accompany you there. I can show you vhy it is zat I am staying around.”

Hermione was happy to have him around. He always made her smile, because he went out of his way to be a clown for her. While everyone else saw tough and mean Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker, she saw the man who was very private but very funny.

“I am sitting on zee other side of Professor Snape. But I am sure he vill be okay vith us talking across him.” Viktor said, leading her into the Great Hall.

Hermione took her hand back from him, not needing anymore gossip mongered about her.  


  
Severus leveled a strange look at her as they walked up. As they came around the table, Severus rose from his seat, his face an impassive glare. 

“Here, Mr. Krum, so you may sit by Miss Granger. I’ve finished already.” He gestured to his chair and turned to march away.

“Severus,” Hermione said, stopping him.

He looked down at her. “Yes, Professor Granger.”

“Thank you for coming to check on me this morning.” She offered him a smile, trying to see how angry he was at her.

“It is my duty to see that all my staff are comfortable.” His clipped response and storming out of the room told her all she needed to know.

  
“Ah, he is very angry vith you, vot happened?” Viktor asked, getting himself some breakfast.

Hermione didn’t feel very hungry, even less now that Severus was mad at her. “I didn’t let him apologize for something because I knew he meant what he said.”

“Maybe you misjudged him.” Viktor offered, taking a drink of his coffee.

She shrugged, shaking her head. “Maybe, I seem to have a habit of it now.”

* * *

Her first class of the day was 5th years. Viktor had left her to teach, wanting to watch flying lessons. He’d promised that he’d be nearby, and if she needed him, she only needed to send her Patronus.

Her students all seemed to look at her with curiosity and expectation.

“Good Morning, class. I will start off by saying yes, a lot happened over break. I will also say no, I don’t want to discuss it. We are here to learn about Muggles and their many interesting customs and inventions. For your homework over the holiday, you were supposed to learn about one new muggle invention you’d never heard of and tell us what you discovered. Who wants to go first.”

Hermione looked over the gaggle of children, and one hand shot right up. “Ambrose?”

“I know that you said you don’t want to talk about it, but did Professor Snape really save you?”

“Yes, he did, now did you do your homework.”

“Oh yes, I learned about a CD player. I spent all of my holidays listening to music that was on these small metallic records. They are read by light. I have a muggle neighbor, so she let me come over and listen to it with her. She was shocked that I’d never heard of Britney Spears. I like Backstreet Boys the best, though.”

“No, Nsync.” Another girl, a Slytherin, chimed in. “I was listening to music too, and obviously Justin Timberlake is a superior frontman. And Lance Bass, with those frosted tips, are you blind?”

“Obviously, you’ve never looked at AJ or Howie?”

Hermione could not contain her amusement because these two wizarding children were fighting over which muggle band was the best.

“Professor Granger, who do you like.”

All her students were looking at her expectantly. Hermione looked around and exhaled, rubbing her face.

“I am afraid I have to disagree with both of you, there is a band called 98 degrees that had some pretty good music. Also, Lyte Funky Ones, who did some amazing work.” She offered, missing the last time she’d listened to music.

“You listen to muggle music normally right, because you are a muggle-born.” A Hufflepuff asked her from the front row.

Hermione nodded, smiling. This was going much better than she anticipated. “Not as much as I would like, but when I got the chance before I came here, I did.”

“Why can’t we listen to it here?”

“I suppose if I can get a CD player and some CD’s we can listen to them.” Hermione shrugged. The law only stated that it was unlawful to use it for anything other than it’s intended purpose. It’s why she’d had one in her office at her house.

“I brought mine from home!” The Slytherin young lady announced, and Hermione smiled at her. It seemed she was going to get to listen to some music this week.

“Then, on Wednesday, bring it with you.”

“This is so much better than when Professor Anadora was here. Too bad Professor Granger is going someplace else next year.”

  
Hermione froze her hands on the podium.

Everything seemed to slow down. Hermione’s heart crawled out of her chest into her throat.

Suddenly she wasn’t in this class. It was the seventh year students before the break.

“We’re gonna miss you, Professor Anadora.” The students said, making a pouting face.

Maria was standing where she was now, smiling. “I’m sure you all will do well with your new professor.”

“Professor Granger will be here when we get back from break?” One of the older boys asked.

Maria smiled at her and Hermione could see that it wasn’t a friendly smile now. “Professor Granger won’t be here that long, she is going to end up somewhere else next year.”

“Thats right, Arithmancy.” One of the girls groaned.

“So I expect that you will behave for who starts teaching you next year.”

Hermione was shaking. She should have known, she should have known that Maria didn’t mean next school year. Hermione should have known that Maria meant next year as in the year starting in a few days. Even then, the woman had been telling her that she was going to try to kill her.

Her breathing came hard and fast, and Hermione could feel herself on the edge of that blackness again. She could hear Maria’s voice screaming at Ron to not be a coward and to just do it. 

Someone screamed.

Was it her?

Hermione couldn’t tell.

  
Crash.

  
“Granger.” A distant voice cut through the fog.

“Open your mouth.” A finger tapped on her chin.

Hermione obeyed, and something soft was placed on her tongue.

“Chew. Help it dissolve. It will work faster.”

The finger on her chin was replaced by a hand on her jaw, massaging her face.

It tasted like strawberries and warm cinnamon.

  
Hermione felt like everything was melting away, the fog and darkness fading from her vision.

Severus was over her, a hand behind her head while one cupped her chin.

“Granger, are you here with us, or still gone.” He asked, his dark eyes probing hers. Hermione felt like he was reading her mind, and it was likely that he was.

She sighed, her hand coming to her head. “I’m here with you.”

“Very good. How do you feel?” Severus asked quietly. 

Hermione turned her head, looking to see her students standing in a circle around her. The podium was on its side and pushed toward the desks.

She felt like the panic was melting in her. It was filled with a light feeling like her emotions were floating on something, rather than sinking. Hermione let out a deep breath, closing her eyes as she appreciated the sensation.

“Better.” She nodded, feeling a slight headache starting behind her left eye.

“Granger, I need actual description, I just tested something on you.” Severus growled. 

She snapped her eyes open, looking at him in disbelief. He’d just given her something that he didn’t know what it was going to do? That was very unlike him, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. “You what?”

“How do you feel?” He asked again, pointedly.

She closed her eyes again, trying to put into words what she felt. “Uh… like everything melted back, the darkness and the sound folded back. I don’t feel heavy, I feel light. It’s like I can’t sink.”

“Headache, stomachache, any tingles.” His hand moved to her forehead and then to her neck, checking her pulse.

Hermione nodded, looking up at him. “A slight headache, but I may have hit my head.”

He made no attempt at hiding his sigh and look of disappointment. “It is a wonder your brain survives the number of times you injure your head.”

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, grabbing for his arm to pull herself up. 

Severus offered it, both his hands on her arms, to stabilize her. She held on to him as she got aligned with which way was up.

“I was interrupted in my class by a terrified student saying you had passed out and were unresponsive on the floor.” He did not sound pleased with her.

Hermione felt the room flip, and her stomach turned. Before she could stop herself, she was folding over, vomiting.

Severus flicked his wand, the mess gone as he held back her hair with his other hand. “Ah, I see that is a side effect that must be mitigated.”

Thunder approached. Hermione heard to door fly open, slamming against the wall as loud footfalls echoed off the classroom wall.

“Hermione! Vot happened?” Viktor said, and he was grabbing her face, lifting her eyes to his. 

Severus let her go, taking several steps back.

Hermione had grabbed his arms, trying to right herself with the world as they spoke. While she felt like she could float away, she also felt extreme vertigo.

  
“Mr. Krum, she seems to be fine. I shall leave her in your hands. I have a class to teach.” 

Hermione turned her head to look at him, watching him stalk away toward the now open door.

“Severus,” Hermione called, lifting her face from Viktor’s hands and looking after him.

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. “Yes, Professor Granger.”

“Thank you.” She breathed, still holding on to Krum for balance.

He gave a curt nod. “I will suggest we move your classroom to one the empty one nearer to my own so that I do not lose as much time with these little disturbances.”

With that, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Hermione, vot happened, the students said you passed out.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay. I just, Professor Snape is right, I need a different classroom.”

“I should have never left you. I vill help you move.”

“Class, instead of our lesson, who wants to practice shrinking and levitating charms.”

Hermione spent the rest of that afternoon moving her classroom down a floor to the empty one next to the defense against the dark arts room. Viktor helped, monitoring the students and putting things right where she wanted them to be.

The flavor of strawberry and cinnamon lingered for hours, and Hermione wondered what it was that Severus had given her.

  



	23. Step 1: Admit the Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He wasn’t sure if it was shame or anger at himself that kept him from going back the next morning. It was likely that mingled with a hangover because he’d not drank nearly that much in a long time. Severus had always been in a casual relationship with alcohol. It would soothe his aches and pains at the end of the day, and he would leave it in its place until he needed it again.

Since he’d found out what he had about Hermione and Ron’s apparent abuse of the substance, he’d abstained, dreading to send her into a terror at a whiff of the brew on his person. 

Perhaps that was another reason he didn’t go back to her rooms. He could not be sure the smell did not linger long after.

However, Severus was only so indulgent that night, when the rage needed to be replaced with something that would make him sleepy and docile. 

He prescribed himself to a different duty. A task that he’d given his word on and would benefit Hermione at the same time.

Severus buried himself in his work. The collective notes of George Weasley mingled in with the books on trauma and grief across his workspace. At all times, two books were hovering on either side of him. He’d gained the skill as a youth, to devour and digest knowledge with a comprehension that left his peers in the proverbial dust.

Cauldrons were brought to boil, ingredients chopped and smashed and skinned. 

Mistakes were made.

Being a potion’s master, Severus had years of experience in creating and testing different manners of doing things. He’d always tried to look for more accessible, more effective ways to do what had already been done. 

This, however, was something new, and it was a challenge.

He’d not had much experience turning potions and their effects into different forms, but it was vital for what Weasley had designed. While brewing Severus could do in his sleep, something was lacking in his ability to bake. This project required a combination of both.

On more occasions than he desired, he found himself coated in a sugary substance that had exploded when the wrong ingredient heated too fast. He cursed the day he ever agreed to this, but at the same time, had a reason to keep going.

The first product finally took form once, but he was remiss on testing it. He’d hoped that Hermione would have been here for this part, and for the assistance in creating the pink mess in the first place, but he’d not bother her. 

Not with what he’d heard from The Medusa.

“She does not slumber, man-shaped Serpent. She does not feast. She walks and talks and writes and screams at ghosts she conjures.” The serpent headed woman yelled from the portrait that she had chased a potions master of yore out of it.

Severus did not look up, only frowning as he rechecked the temperature. “It’s called recovering and grief. Is she taking her potions?”

The Medusa hissed something and then responded. “The she-elf brings them, and she takes them, but nothing else. But she will waste to sickness if you do not do something.”

“Her potions have supplemental nutrition in them.” He offered, stirring very carefully. He switched his gaze to Weasley’s notes.

She cackled, filling the room with the sound. “I knew you were a serpent inside. Tricky beast.”

While the report worried him, he felt confident that someone would get him should she be in desperate need.

“Is she hurting herself?” He questioned, drawing the stirring wand up, hoping that it would form the needed shape. He was trying to replicate the results he’d had before.

“Only with words. She cries, and when she does, she yells the words louder.”

Severus understood those feelings all too well. She was raging against the world and herself. He read it was healthy to let someone who had been through prolonged trauma to do this, as long as they were not harming themselves. “Hermione will be fine. One does not come out of what she has without pain. Each of us suffers in our own manners.”

“What shall I do then, to assist my charge?” The Medusa questions. He was amused that magical beast who was a painting at that, had come to him to help Hermione.

“Urge her to eat, to sleep. Listen when she speaks. If she says anything like wanting to hurt herself or kill herself, you need to fetch me.” He ended his tone with a firm note.

POP! BLURP!

Once again, he was coated in a mess, and he would have to go back several steps to try again. Apparently, it did not like being yelled at.

“This I can do. What are you making, Serpent.”

He flicked his wand, trying to clean the mess that was able to cling to everything. “A mess at this moment, but it will have promise once I can get it to stop exploding.”

“Athena’s blessing on your work. I shall return should my charge need you.”

The Medusa left him then, and he went back to his work. He would need the blessing of every divine if he were going to get this to work.

But if it did, George Weasley would change a lot of people’s lives, and it might even help Hermione.

Two weeks flew by far too quickly for his liking.

By the end of it he five of the products ready for testing. George had already agreed to be a guinea pig and taken a sample. Severus kept the rest in his office attached to his classroom. He had a distinct feeling that he might get a chance to work on them at the beginning of the term.

* * *

The first day of term brought its own headaches. 

He’d been the one to go to the train the day before with Hagrid to collect the students. Minerva had not yet returned from her cottage, saying she would be in the evening. As Deputy Headmaster, that meant he was in charge of ensuring everyone did as they were supposed to. This was why he never wanted to be Headmaster again.

He’d awoken later than he planned, which meant Severus needed to make haste if he wanted to make sure that Hermione was well enough to teach.

Severus arrived at her doors to find The Medusa looking at him quizzically. “She is not here, Serpent. She left before the dawn.”

“Thank you.” He offered before walking away. He could feel her through the castle, sensing she was in her classroom.

_Perhaps all her raging had gotten her to a place where she didn’t fear the site…_ Severus thought, walking quickly to the fourth floor. 

He heard her giggle, and it made him grin a little at the corners of his mouth as he turned into the open classroom door. She sounded like she was in a good mood.

Severus stopped mid-step.

“Hermio- ah-” Hermione was standing there, smiling at Viktor Krum. The massive man had been in front of her, making a face whilst holding her hand. Severus saw their conjoined hands and a wash of jealously flushed him.  
“-I had come to see if you were having any difficulties in this room, but it seems they are under control.”

Severus glared and turned heel, walking as fast as he could down the stairs. He heard her call for him, but he did not turn to look at her. 

_Of course, Viktor Krum would come swooping in and be so inconsiderate as to try to woo her now that she was freeing herself from Ron…_   
_Had he no consideration of the fact that if she didn’t heal as a person before entering a new relationship, she increased her chances of depression…_   
_Didn’t he understand that she was in a vulnerable place and needed a friend and not a suitor…_

Severus tried to rationalize it, but he knew deep down that he was jealous.

Once again, he found himself in the place he’d been before. 

_What chance have I, against Viktor Krum…_

He was sour-faced as he took his seat at the table, and Severus ate as quickly as he could, not wanting to be here when they arrived. 

Severus had known that Krum was in the castle, and he was thankful that the man has said that he’d be there for Hermione’s protection. But now, he wanted him gone.

It was petulant and childish, and Severus knew it, but he also knew he had to let the feelings come and go, or he would fixate.

He watched them walk in, Hermione taking her hand from him as they walked. At least she had the good sense not to have the wizarding world think she was with Krum. Was she with Krum? Had The Medusa neglected to inform him that Krum had been with her in those rooms?

Severus felt anger, and he had to remove himself. He stood as they approached the table, glaring at them.

He gestured to his chair, even though his face clearly said he didn’t want Viktor in it. “Here, Mr. Krum, so you may sit by Miss Granger. I’ve finished already.” 

He went to march away again, but she stopped him. “Severus,” 

“Yes, Professor Granger.” He looked down on her, trying to conceal the anger and wishing she knew how he felt betrayed even though it wasn’t her fault.

“Thank you for coming to check on me this morning.” 

Her smile was meek, and he could see in her eyes that she was trying to see if he was cross with her. “It is my duty to see that all my staff are comfortable.”

  
Severus went straight to his classroom. He had a class to prepare for.

They would be working on identifying hexes instead of curses on items and removing both from said items. Severus had arranged on each desk a series of things, and the students would be quizzed on what each one was before the lesson began. He hoped that they had done their winter reading.

Severus took several minutes looking out at the grounds and counting before his students arrived. He found he liked the method of counting to allow him to take control of what he was feeling. It was rather ingenious, and he was frustrated that he’d never been taught it at Hogwarts. It would have saved him many broken vials.

His students filed in, and he began his lecture, explaining the differences between the two and reminding them how they had learned about jinxes before the break.

He just started going over the objects when a student flew into his classroom, wild eyes, and red-faced.

“Professor Snape! HELP!”

He had his wand out and was running to the younger student. “What is it?”

“Professor Granger is on the floor; she isn’t waking up; she is just staring!” The Gryffindor girl squeaked, trying to grab him to pull him toward the door. 

“Wands Down, Everyone, Read Chapter 15, and if you finish, reread it.” He shouted at his class, running into his office. 

Severus pulled out the tin of experimental creations from his desk drawer and rushed out, running ahead of the student.

His classroom was on the second floor, and hers was on the fourth. Severus began to remember that he hated stairs as he crested the second set.

The classroom had panicked voices coming from it, several of the students repeating her name. He marched in, trying to conceal that he was winded.

“Out of the way.” He barked, moving through to get to Hermione.

She was lying on the floor, her eyes barely cracked, but moving wildly. She was panting as she’d just been the one to run up several flights of stairs to get here. Severus sunk to his knees, running his wand over her first, looking for curses or magical reasons to cause this reaction. He found nothing.

“Granger.” He said, touching her shoulder with a shake.

“Granger.” He repeated, tucking his hand under the nape of her neck and lifting her head.

She seemed to respond to her name then, her eyes flicking to him before going back to its dreamlike eye movement.

He pulled the tin out of his pocket, opening it and pulling a pink eight-pointed star shape from it. Using his index finger, he tapped Hermione's chin, trying to see if this would get her to respond.

“Open your mouth.” He tapped again.

She obeyed him, and he placed it on her tongue, tucking his hand back under her neck.

He began to rub her jaw, trying to help her to have it dissolve faster. It’d been designed so that it wasn’t something that could be choked on. “Chew. Help it dissolve. It will work faster.”

Severus sat there for several moments, ignoring the students. He was looking into her eyes and her mind. He could see that she was fighting against what felt like an ocean. Her mind was disorganized and disorienting.

“Granger, are you here with us, or still gone.”

He could see her recognizing him, her eyes had relaxed, and she was breathing normally.

“I’m here with you.”

The Panic Puff had seemed to work. 

He was impressed with the speed, but he didn’t know if she’d have any adverse side effects.

“Very good. How do you feel?” He needed to know if he needed to make adjustments. He prayed not because he would have to spend more time with the formula and did not have that kind of time.

“Better.” She breathed, holding her head with her hand.

_Ah yes, that is precisely what I shall put in my notes. Subject 1 simply felt better at having one._

“Granger, I need actual description, I just tested something on you.”

Her eyes and mouth went wide as it seemed like she couldn’t fathom what he’d said. “You what?”

“How do you feel?” He asked again. He didn’t have time to discuss it with her, there were students with cursed items on their desks, and someone was going to be cursed by the time he got back.

“Uh… like everything melted back, the darkness and the sound folded back. I don’t feel heavy; I feel light. It’s like I can’t sink.”

Severus checked her temperature with his hand, then counted her pulse out. It was going down, which was the desired result. “Headache, stomachache, any tingles.”

“A slight headache, but I may have hit my head.”

He wanted so desperately to roll his eyes. “It is a wonder your brain survives the number of times you injure your head.”

He stood, working on getting her on to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

Severus picked her up, holding her arms as she seemed to wobble and not have any balance.

“I was interrupted in my class by a terrified student saying you had passed out and were unresponsive on the floor.” He was frustrated as he answered because Severus needed her to be okay so that he could return to class.

Her eyes winced close, and he barely had the chance to dodge as she expelled her breakfast from her violently. That was obviously dizziness. “Ah, I see that is a side effect that must be mitigated.”

He flicked his wand to clean the mess.

It was impossible not to hear the pounding footfalls coming in this direction. It sounded like a bear was running full tilt through the castle.

Mr. Krum busted into the room, not stopping until he was at her side, holding her face. “Hermione! Vot happened?”

Severus could not bear to see the affection, as the jealousy in him rose exponentially.

Pulling his cold exterior back into place, he moved from them to leave the room. Even with his anger, he did have a responsibility to make sure his students were all alright. “Mr. Krum, she seems to be fine. I shall leave her in your hands. I have a class to teach.”

“Severus.”

He turned to look at her, seeing how she pulled away from Krum to look at him. “Yes, Professor Granger.”

“Thank you.”

“I will suggest we move your classroom to one the empty one nearer to my own so that I do not lose as much time with these little disturbances.”

He did not want to have to run two sets of stairs every time her world collapsed around her. Severus stalked down the stairs, leaving them.

When he returned to his classroom, he was surprised to find out that only one student had decided not to listen and had ended up giving themselves the dancing jinx. He took appropriate points for that.

Severus spent the rest of the day ignoring the fact that he could hear Viktor Krum moving her classroom for her. By the end of the day, he was so wound tight that he was able to test one of his own creations. 

Apparently, Tension Toffee gives one uncontrollable belching. Severus was not pleased about this discovery.

* * *

For the rest of the week, Hermione was not anywhere without the hulking form of Viktor Krum at her side.

They had talked all of dinnertime across his plate. Topics from Quidditch to how Bulgaria was working on handling the laws that had come in place over the last several years flew between them.

Severus had to admit; he was surprised that the young man was such a conversationalist, as he’d hardly heard more than a few words out of him before. But it seemed like Hermione brought that out in him. 

That made Severus feel even worse. Because there was someone else who she brought a different side out of, he was trying not to compare himself to the young man, but it was nigh impossible when she was always with him. Now that their classes were next to each other, he could not walk past without the chance of seeing her.

Awful noise had started coming from her classroom in the middle of the week, and he had discovered that someone had brought her a CD player to enchant. Now her students were learning muggle music and culture, and he was trying not to kick himself for not thinking to get her one before this.

On Saturday, Hermione left with Viktor to go shopping, and the jealousy reached an all-time high. She’d not left with anyone but him since they’d been there.

Severus had to go to his rooms early.

“I’m going mad.” He said aloud, pacing trying to reason with himself.

He started reading, levitating a book so that he could pace and read.

“Am I the problem here? Am I overreacting? Do I have a reason to react at all?” Severus queried, shaking his head.

After several long minutes of walking, he realized what he was doing in horror. 

He was doing the same thing to Hermione, that he’d done to Lily.

He’d paced and sulked and pouted at her as she was with the Marauders.

Severus had thought of her like a possession and that she didn’t belong to them, or with them.

“Fuck.”

He collapsed into the sofa, running his fingers through his hair. He had a problem, and he was going to have to fix it before he repeated history.


	24. Preparation, Preparation, Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

It was a blustery January morning, and Hermione had wrapped a scarf around her face to keep out the cold. Viktor had teased her because she wanted to floo rather than fly, but he still did as she asked. Snow kissed the tops of the homes, but the street was clear of it.

“Vhere to first, my skŭp,” Viktor asked as they landed in the Leaky Cauldron. He had his arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

Hermione took his hand, leading him through the patrons toward the door out on to the streets. “Follow me. We have to go into Muggle London first.” 

Viktor sounded surprised. “Oh, you did not tell me zis.”

“I know, I just, I have an appointment.” She expressed, and they walked out on to the street with cars and people on cell phones.

“Lead the vay, I have not spent much time at all in London.”

Hermione lead him through the streets, knowing exactly where she was going. Viktor made her so happy because he did not look around like he was confused, or even ask questions, he just let her take the lead.

At the end of the street was an optometrist that her parents had been friends with when she was a little girl. She pushed on the wooden door, the tinkle of a bell announcing their presence. Inside was a room with all manner of glasses on the walls and then a receptionist.

“Hello, do you have an appointment.” A blonde girl, with her hair up tight in a sweater. She looked at her and then looked at the book in front of her.

“I do, Hermione Granger.”

The woman stopped, took off her glasses, and looked at her. Hermione knew her face but wasn’t sure from where.

“Oh- oh my word. It is you. You look so grown up. Wow, Mimi.”

Hermione knew who it was in an instant, and the young woman came around the desk, embracing her.

“Lucille, I- it’s been forever, I didn’t know you were working in your dad’s office,” Hermione said with excitement, baffled that she hadn’t recognized her first.

Lucille had been Hermione’s first friend when she was in grade school. They’d done everything together. It was so strange, seeing her now. It was like seeing a part of her past she’d forgotten about.

“Yeah, he needs help, and I need a job. Besides, I gotta know how to run the family business. Are you going to introduce me to your friend.” Luci’s eyes ran over Viktor.

Hermione laughed, grabbing Viktor’s hand and introducing them.“Oh, yes, this is Viktor, he is one of my dearest friends. Viktor, this is Lucille, we grew up together as little girls.”

Hermione watched as he grinned, and politely kissed her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, any friend of Hermione’s is a friend of mine.”

“Likewise. Hermione, when I saw the name, it didn’t even click until I saw your face. I’ll let da know you are here.”

Luci walked into the backroom, and Hermione went to look at the wall of glasses, hoping she wouldn’t need a set, but knowing that was unlikely. She’d noticed that her left eye would often hurt after hours of reading and that she couldn’t quite see as far as she had been able to remember she could.

“Hermione, my little Hermione, all grown into a woman.” She heard a man behind her speak, and she turned to see Dr. Sorgfalt. Dr. Sorgfalt was a portly older man in his 50’s, with round eyes and a long nose. He wore a white lab coat and denim jeans. His face was bright with a smile.

“Hey, Doc.” She answered, giving him a hug. 

“My girl, I did not think I would see you again. How have you been? I remember when I heard about your parents, and my heart was out to you.” He squeezed her and then let her go.

Hermione nodded. “I still have the card you sent me. This is my friend Viktor, he’s gonna walk me if you have to dilate me.”

“Good. Nice to meet you, young man.” Doc said, shaking Viktor’s hand. “Now, Luci says we are here to look at your eyes.”

“I had a terrible accident a while ago, and I’ve noticed that I can’t see as well out of my left eye, and I’m getting strain.”

“Well, let’s get you in the chair and see what we can see.”

“Okay. Viktor, do you want to come and watch, or would you like to sit out here.”

“I vill vatch.”

  
Hermione had been to an eye doctor before, but she could tell that Viktor had not. His facial expressions at the machines were not hard to miss. But he sat there patiently in a plastic chair, watching as she had her vision tested. It was not comfortable to have the drops put in, but she had been through worse.

  
After about 45 minutes, she had her answers.

Doc took another look in her eye, looking around it with light. “You look like you had an orbital blowout, but the bone structure has no damage from what I can tell unless it’s hairline. Your muscles seem in place but strained. But you have reduced vision in your left eye. You are nearsighted in it now, that's why you can’t see at much of distance. Your right eye is doing all that depth work for you.”

Hermione had been afraid of that. “So, definitely glasses?”

“Oh, most definitely. How much time do you have today.” Doc said, tucking the equipment away and starting to clean up around them.

She smiled at Viktor, who looked very nervous. “As long as it takes to get my glasses made.”

“Okay, you sit tight, I’ll get you set up to sit in the waiting room, and I can have them out in an hour.” Doc patted her knee and walked out of the room.

Viktor looked so out of place in the room, and she gave him a commiserating smile, getting up and walking over to him.

“Are you okay, Viktor.” Hermione took his hand.

He was still looking around the room, but he met her eyes and nodded. “That vas interesting. I didn’t zink muggles knew zat much about ze eye.”

Hermione suspected that Viktor didn’t know a lot about Muggles, it didn’t seem to be something high on their educational sights. “You should come to my class then, you’d learn a lot you likely didn’t know.”

“I vouldn’t vant to make you nervous. Besides, Professor Snape, I don’t zink he vould like it.” Viktor offered, giving her a serious look.

She shrugged, shaking her hand. “He’s been a mood where Severus doesn’t like much of anything right now.”

He’d done nothing but glare at her and barely spoke to her. If Severus did say anything, it had such airs of formality that it left her confused.

Viktor interrupted her thoughts, touching her cheek. “I zink he is jealous, Hermione.”

“Of what? You? Why would he be jealous? It’s not like that, he’s not like that about me.” She laughed nervously. Hermione definitely did not want to tell Viktor why that was not the case. She knew it had to be that he’d saved her life, so he had no reason to pretend he cared anymore.

Viktor took his turn, shaking his head and sighing at her. “Hermione, You didn’t see him zat night, Hermione. He vas a man possessed. Ze only zing zat calmed was knowing you vere awake and alive. I zink, zere is more to zat man than you vant to see.”

Hermione closed her eyes tilted her head back, away from his hand on her cheek.“It’s complicated.”

“But you are Hermione Granger, vould you solve a simple problem? No, you need a complicated man.”

She pushed on his shoulder, laughing at his ridiculousness.“Stop teasing me.”

“Fine, fine, but I zink you need to talk to him.” Viktor offered.

The door opened, and Hermione winced at the light coming into the room. 

Lucille had an orange protective lens in her hand, and she walked up to Hermione, putting it over her eyes.

“Okay, here are your protective glasses until your eyes adjust, let’s go pick out some frames.”

Hermione followed her out of the room, Viktor a step behind her. She wasn’t exactly keen on the idea that she’d have glasses, but it was better than the squinting she’d been doing.

Walking along the wall, she looked over several and grabbed three. As soon as her eyes were ready for the light of the room, she could take off the visor.

“Okay, Viktor, tell me which one do you like?” Hermione asked him.

She tried on each of the three tester frames, tilting her head every which way so he could see it at every angle. It took a lot of back and forth before she picked the wayfarer shape in black. Viktor had told her it was cute and she liked how it made her look more professional.

It only took another 25 minutes after she’d picked the frames before she had two pairs of glasses. She’d tried to pay, but Doc wouldn’t let her. Said that her parents had done so much for Lucille’s teeth over the years that it wouldn’t have been right. She hugged him tightly, and when he went to the backroom, she paid Lucille anyways, telling her that if her father said anything about it, to use the money to get him something he wanted.

After a hug and several promises to write, Hermione was on the street again with Viktor.

“Are you sure I look alright?”

“You are like ze morning sun and vere ze devil to see your face, he would kiss your eyes and repent,” Viktor said dramatically, and she laughed, holding his arm as they crossed the busy Muggle streets.

By the time they made it to the Leaky, it was almost time to meet her lawyer. Draco had arranged for them to use one of the private rooms at his club, since it was during the day, to keep anyone from overhearing their conversation.

Hermione didn’t feel right, walking into Secluded Delights; it’d been years since she’d been there, and it was not her style. But during the day, when the regular lights were on, and it wasn’t absolutely packed with dancing bodies, it was beautiful inside. 

Draco walked up to her in a charcoal business suit. Well, as close to a business suit as robes got in the Wizarding world. “Hermione, it is so good to see you,” Draco said, shaking her hand.

“Draco, it is good to see you too. It looks so different during the day.” Hermione said, looking around the room complimentary.

“It’s cleaner during the day too. Mr. Greengrass is waiting for you. I’m sure Viktor and I can occupy ourselves while you meet with him, right Viktor.” Draco said, shaking Viktor’s hand. 

Hermione could tell that Viktor was nervous as they clumsy shook hands, but she knew that Draco would be a perfect host.

“Um, yes, yes, ve can, Draco.”

Hermione took the stairs up to the meeting room. She pulled her journal out of her bag, her notes in order, and read.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley.” He rose to shake her hand. He was a middle-aged wizard, maybe in his 60’s. He had dark hair that was held back at his neck with a clip. His face was square, and he had shrewd eyes, but his smile was genuine, or at least it looked it.

“Mr. Greengrass. I prefer to be addressed as Miss Granger.” She said, taking his hand.

He gave her an accepting bow of his head. “That I can do, Miss Granger. Please sit.”

Hermione took her seat across from him. He had all the letters she had written in a neat pile at his elbow and quill at the ready to copy their words down.

“I have looked at everything you have provided and your witness list. You were thorough, and I don’t really see much more we will have to do for this case. Your name will carry a lot of weigh in the courtroom.” Mr. Greengrass offered.

Hermione shook her head. “I have to disagree. There is a precedent for them to deny me. In the Ruffles case of 54,’ they denied Angelica Ruffles her divorce, even with extensive evidence of abuse and neglect because she’d not sought help before. Do you know how many witches have been granted divorces that they initiated in the last fifty years?”

“I ah, I don’t have those numbers, it is not very common for divorce in the Wizarding World.” The lawyer said, suddenly looking like he was confused about why he was here.

“Five, Mr. Greengrass. Two of them were granted after the witches had already died. There have been twenty-six marriages dissolved over blood status disputes, started by the families and not the couple, and fifty-one granted to wizards who wanted to divorce. Still, only five witches have been granted it.” Hermione was empathetically moving her hands to demonstrate the numbers as she spoke.

“Perhaps not as many women seek to leave their husbands.”

Another shake of her head. “There were fifteen witch led requests for divorce last year, and every single one was dismissed. All seven of the wizard led ones were granted.”

“You seem to have done your homework on this, Miss Granger. I am impressed.” Mr. Greengrass stated, giving her a look of amazement.

“I have, and I know how we need to present this.” Hermione pulled a pile of notes and copies from the legal aid books she had gotten her hands on.

“Please, tell me, you are by far my most informed client so far.”

Hermione passed the folder to him. He opened it and began to look over the pages as she spoke.

“Outrage and public reception played a key factor in even getting my date this soon. I plan to use the media to ensure that the courts know they will have to deal with the public if I am denied. It’s a little underhanded, I will admit, but it will work. I plan on using a contact I have in the media to speak publicly about where we are in preparing for the case.”

He tsked at her, still looking over the paperwork she’d given him. “That can be tricky Miss Granger, the media is a monster not easily tamed and can bite back.”

“I am aware, that is also why I have written out everything that needs to be said in the courtroom, so if it does bite back, I will have facts, evidence, and precedents to show them that I deserve to no longer be chained to my ex-husband.” She offered, sitting with her hands in front of her, watching as he went over her notes.

Mr. Greengrass read for several minutes and then looked up at her, folding his hands in front of him.

“Miss Granger, may I ask a question.”

She was worried, had she missed something, had there not been enough information, was the book she had outdated. “Oh, yes, of course.”

“What precisely do you need me for?” His face had a big smile, and he seemed most amused at her.

Hermione wasn’t sure how to answer the question. She told him what she did know. “Draco said I would be mad if I represented myself and that you were the most knowledgeable.”

He nodded, closing the folder and tucking it in with the pile of letters he had from her. “I see. I think we will get along well. I am surprised you are not a Slytherin, this isn’t a very in your face lion strategy.”

“I’ve learned a lot from a lot of people.” 

“Speaking of people you’ve learned from, you know that the court will want to speak with Severus Snape. He is not on your witness list.” Mr. Greengrass explained, looking at the letter she had sent him with names.

Hermione shook her head, she wasn’t going to ask him if she didn’t have to.“I’m not sure he wants to be involved.”

“Perhaps he should have thought about that before he smashed your ex-husbands face in.”

“I suppose so.” Hermione sighed. He had a point, Severus had been there for everything since she’d come to Hogwarts.

She sat in thought for a few minutes about how she would broach the subject with him. Mr. Greengrass began to pack his things into a briefcase.

He stood up now, coming to stand by her chair. “I will take my leave now, ma’am.”

“Thank you for coming and for your future help.” Hermione stood, shaking his hand.

“Thank you for being so proactive. Write to me if anything else comes up.”

She nodded at him. “I shall goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Hermione took herself back downstairs, and neither Draco nor Viktor was to be found.

“Hello, Draco? Viktor?”

  
“Oh, Hello- Oh, Mrs. Granger. Hi. So nice to meet you. Oh, my word. Hi.” A young woman with long brown hair said, stumbling over herself as she came around the bar to her.

Hermione smiled politely and greeted her. “Hello, do we know each other?”

The woman looked ashamed and bashful for a second and leaned against the bar. “No, but in a way. I- I wanted to thank you.”

“For what exactly.” Hermione was super confused at the moment but was willing to find out what this was about.

The woman, who had stunning blue eyes, wrung her hands and looked at her feet before looking back at Hermione. “Because of you, Mr. Malfoy made it so Mr. Weasley can’t come here anymore. I- um-, well-” 

It made sense now. Hermione sighed softly, taking a seat on one of the barstools next to the woman.

“You’re one of the girls he hurt.” Hermione offered as the woman was still stammering over her words.

“Well- yeah. I’m- I’m not a room girl or a dancer, I’m a bartender. He uh- yeah- wasn’t kind to me.” She rubbed the back of her neck, not looking in Hermione's eyes anymore, in fact, avoiding it altogether.

Hermione felt the sorrow rise in her throat, and she tried to push it down. Her voice wobbled anyways against her will. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to go through that.”

The woman looked up then, shaking her hands and sitting next to Hermione, taking her hand in between hers. “Oh, no, no, no, please don’t be sorry. I wanted to thank you. You, you did a lot for us. Mr. Malfoy changed a lot of rules, made it a lot safer for us. Not just from- him.”

It had been made public that Draco had changed a lot of things and made sure that anyone who hurt his team was going to pay.

“Well, then, I’m glad. What’s your name?” Hermione said with a smile.

The woman blushed and shook her head, looking embarrassed.“Oh, sorry, I’m so- I can’t believe I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Roxanne.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Roxanne. I’m glad you don’t have to be afraid anymore.” Hermione was sincere, and she gave the woman’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m glad you don’t have to be afraid anymore, either. If you-, I know you don’t know me, but if you need to talk, or if you need me to help with the divorce, I will help you.”

It was odd to get that offer from a total stranger, but she nodded. It was a kind gesture, none the less.“That is kind of you. I don’t know if I will need to talk, but I will remember your offer.”

“That’s enough for me. I better get back to work, gotta make sure I stock the bar. Just- thank you. Thank you for being brave enough to do something.”

“I- you’re welcome.”

Hermione didn’t exactly feel all that brave, but hearing the woman say it made her feel a little better. Knowing that all this had helped someone else, was liberating in a way.

“Hermione, there you are, we thought we heard you,” Draco called, walking from the other end of the hall.

Viktor and Draco looked like they had been in a bit of a scuffle, their clothes had some wrinkles, and Draco’s perfect hair now looked a little askew. She hoped they had been goofing around and not really fighting.

“Hey, Draco. I was speaking to Roxanne here. She tells me that you’ve done a lot to make sure it is safer for them here. That makes me really happy to hear that.” Hermione said, standing up and giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“Oh, well, thank you. I have a responsibility to it. They take care of me too. Roxanne knows a killer hangover cure.” Draco said, giving her a smile.

The bartender rolled her eyes as she set glasses up the bar. “It’s just a potion and a bottle of water.”

  
Draco gave her a ten million dollar smile.“It’s still effective. Are we ready for lunch, I am famished.”

“Are you going with us?” Hermione raised her eyebrow at him.

Draco and Viktor exchanged glances.

“Viktor? Have you not told her yet?” Draco asked.

Viktor shrugged at him.“I vas vaiting for you to be here.”

“Ah. Well, let’s get lunch and have a chat.” Draco said, taking Hermione by the arm.

* * *

Romilda Vane was a beauty. She had smooth skin, curly well kept hair, designer clothing, and a voice that could charm. But that wasn’t what Hermione had liked about the woman when they worked together before.

Romilda was smart. Not just book-smart, she had a strong emotional and interpersonal knowledge base that Hermione was envious of. Romilda knows how to make people feel with her words. She knew how to evoke happiness, sadness, pain, and joy, all with a quill and ink alone.

And unlike Rita Skeeter, who had set out to sensationalize the world, Romilda wanted the world to know the truth. She’d turned Witch Weekly from a girly magazine to an actual news outlet that, at times, rivaled the Prophet.

Hermione could respect a woman with ambition. Yes, Romilda had tried to get Harry to take a love potion. Yes, she was the reason that Ron got poisoned in the end. However, after talking with her about the event long into the morning one day, Hermione understood her better. She wanted to be recognized, and at the time, she thought that was the way to go about it. Romilda didn’t get the grasp of her actions until that happened. The whole ordeal made her realize that she needed to use that mind for good and not selfish or nefarious reasons.

Hermione could respect that. She and Romilda shared a lot of views on things, which is why she was in her office now.

“It is so good to see you. Merlin, when I heard, I had to do everything to not fly to Hogwarts myself.” Romilda said, squeezing Hermione.

Hermione hugged her back, giving her kisses on the cheek. “I know, but you wouldn’t have been able to see me. And I wouldn’t have wanted you too.”

“Are those new?” Romilda asked, pointing at the glasses.

Hermione touched the frames, having forgotten she had them on her face.“I just got them today, actually?”

“Oh? Why?”

Hermione couldn’t help but frown. “Ron did some damage to my left eye. It didn’t heal right.”

“Oh, Merlin Hermione, I can’t imagine.” Romilda covered her mouth with her hand and looked at her with pity. Hermione didn’t like it, but she knew that Romilda was kind. 

“It’s okay.”

Romilda walked around her desk, patting her quetzal on the head as she passed his perch.

“So, what brings you to me today?”

Hermione pulled out another stack of papers from her bag, resizing them. “I want you to put together a press release on the information in preparation for my divorce hearing.”

“I can do that, do you have details,” Romilda said, writing down what Hermione was asking of her.

“Right here, double-checked and sourced. I am most of the source.” Hermione set the pile on her desk and took a seat, watching as Romilda’s mind started turning over ideas.

“That’s fine. What mood do you want for it.”

Hermione had thought long and hard about this. She knew that she needed to have the wizarding world on her side. She was a muggle-born, divorcing a pureblood, in a sexist court system. ”I need you to write a piece that makes them feel so sorry and heartbroken that there is no way they could think that I deserve to stay married to Ron.”

“That is easy. I get about a hundred owls a day wanting to know if I know more about you.” Romilda gestured to a pile of neatly ordered letters and filed on a table under the window.

“You are a saint.” Hermione was so happy that those letters were not coming to her. She’d have blasted them to bits if they were.

“I’m something better; I’m a journalist. You want me to include your eye damage?”

“I suppose.” Hermione touched the frame again. She felt self-conscious about them, but she knew it could help.

Romilda stood up, bewitching her quill, parchment, and ink to follow her so she could write and talk.

“Let’s go over to photography and get a few photos of you, I’ll use them for the photo.”

Hermione got up, fixing her scarf and hoping that she didn’t look an absolute mess. “Alright, you’re the expert.”

“Trust me, Hermione, we’ve got this.”

* * *

  
By the time she reached the castle, she was exhausted. It wasn’t even dinner yet either. Viktor had helped her carry her bags to her room, as she had gotten far too many books. 

She didn’t even bother to change from her beautiful robes, deciding to go to dinner in them and change for bed. She had started sleeping a little better since the classroom change. The nightmares still came, but she could get back to sleep if Crookshanks was next to her.

“Hermione, you are a vision of beauty. Zhese photos, how did she do it?” Viktor said, looking at the copies of the photos that Romilda had given her as they walked to the great hall.

She shrugged at him. “I stood there and did what she asked, and that is what came out.”

“Honestly, any man vho cannot see zat you are goddess is blind and does not deserve your presence.” He proclaimed, holding the photo up in the air at a distance as if it changed the view. 

Even portrait Hermione was rolling her eyes.

She pushed his arm again, shaking his arm a bit. “Now, you are just a flatterer. I’m going to tell Draco on you.”

“Oh, now you know that's not true. I have always found you pretty. And so has Draco.” Viktor made a sly face, poking her in her side. 

Hermione broke into laughter and shook her head, reaching for the photos. “I think I am going to take these from you now.”

Krum held them close to his heart, turning from her grasp with all the grace of a Quidditch pro. “Oh no, my skŭp, I am going to keep zese, and ze next time I am asked if you are cute, I shall show zhem ze face of ze divine.”

“You are so over the top. Is there an off switch?” She was on her tiptoe now, trying to get them from him as he dove and dodged around her.

“Not zat you can find my skŭp.” He laughed, scooting around her again.

Hermione put her hand on her hips, trying to look dangerous with him. “Give me them, I don’t need you showing the whole school the ‘ _face of the divine._ ’”

“Oh no, I am only going to show Professor Snape,” Viktor said, and with that, he took off in a run toward the Great Hall.

  
Hermione went pale and then took off after him. “Viktor! Viktor! Don’t you dare!”

Viktor was so much faster than her. She skidded into the Great Hall behind him, her arm catching her on the door as she bolted after him. 

He couldn’t show Severus. Severus would mock her, he’d already gone back to the asshole. 

Hermione did not need him to make fun of her glasses.

  
She stopped in front of the head table, panting and holding her knees. Viktor had already sat down next to him and was talking to him. Severus looked between her and Viktor.

Hermione watched with horror as Viktor showed him the photos and was whispering conspiratorially with him. Severus said something back to him, looking almost sad, and then Viktor clapped a hand on his shoulder, laughing. 

Her heart was beating so fast from running, and she was still catching her breath as she came around to her seat, knowing she was defeated.

“Viktor, when I get my wind back, I will suffocate you with a bread roll.” Hermione panted, taking her seat. 

Severus looked at her and did a double-take. “Miss Gr- Hermione, did you get glasses?”

“I did, I know I look ridiculous. Go ahead, laugh, have your fun, I can’t breathe right now, so I can’t fight back.”

“They look good on you, Hermione.”

It was her turn to do a double-take.


	25. Stage 2: Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Severus had been pouring through books all Saturday long. He couldn’t find anything on what he was looking for. Severus had not gotten books that dealt with objectifying a person and how to stop it. He’d not looked for books for him or his issues. He’d only looked for books for Hermione.

It wasn’t as if he’d planned on going on an introspective self-growth adventure at forty-five years old. Severus hadn’t even realized that he’d had these issues until he started reading to try to ease her pain. He made the observation that he was going to need a lot more books. He was going to have to make it out to a muggle city soon.

  
When dinner time came around, he resolved that he would start by apologizing to both Hermione and Viktor. He’d been unnecessarily cruel to Hermione, especially since she was likely still grappling with issues from the first day of term. Viktor, he had been pleasant to the man until he’d seen him with her that first time.

Honestly, Severus had to accept that Hermione might be with Viktor. That she was entitled to make those choices, and it really didn’t matter what he wanted. If he wanted her to be happy, and to heal, and this was how she was choosing to do so, he had no say in the matter. It was tough for him to grapple with that. Severus was a man who lived on control, he had to be in control of himself and the way things went around him. It was what kept him alive for so long.

Now he had to come to grips with the reality that the only thing he could control was his actions and reactions. It was unnerving for him.

He sat between two empty chairs and found himself almost longing for the distraction of their conversations. It would have kept him from the self-truths that he was having a difficult time coming to terms with.

“VIKTOR! VIKTOR! DON’T YOU DARE!” He heard Hermione yell, his head lifting immediately. He was almost out of his chair when he saw the Bulgarian Seeker pounding through the great hall, something grasped to his chest. He had a massive grin on his face, and he was looking back over his shoulder. 

Severus sat back down, raising an eyebrow and wondering what was going on.

Viktor spun around the table like he was avoiding crashing into another broom ride. He sat down next to him, breathing heavily and grinning.

“I vant to show you zhese.” Viktor whispered, holding photos to his chest. Severus was confused, concerned, and potentially horrified if those had anything scandalous on them.

Hermione came jogging into the room after him, stopping to catch her breath at the front of the room.

Severus passed his eyes over her before turning to Viktor.

“If they are her private things, I am not sure I should-” Severus turned back to Krum, confused at what part he had in this scheme.

Viktor Krum shook his head, speaking adamantly. “No, you listen, Professor Snape, you need to see zhese. It is ze face of ze divine.”

“Mr. Krum, I don’t think.” Severus protested.

Viktor unfolding the photos, and they were not scandalous. Hermione was sitting in a seat, her head tilted up at an angle as if she were looking at something with scrutiny. The eyes looked at him and portrait Hermione rose an eyebrow at him. There was something different about the photo, and he couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was just a photo of her.

Severus looked at Viktor, perplexed as she spoke quietly to the man. “These are of Miss Granger.”

“Isn’t she lovely. Isn’t zat ze face of a goddess.” Krum offered, showing him the photos eagerly.

Severus sighed, not sure if he was being teased now.

He frowned at the thought.

“Mr. Krum, I need to say something to you.”

“Yes, Professor,” Viktor said, smiling at him like a touch of a madman.

Severus took a deep breath and offered up the harvest of his afternoon of slaving over the fields of his own failings. “I want to apologize for how I have treated you. It is none of my business what relationship you have with Hermione, and I should not have been so grievously rude.”

Viktor put his hand on Severus’s shoulder and laughed as if the whole thing amused him. It was not the reaction he was expecting.

“Yes, yes, I know, you vere jealous. But look at zis.” Viktor pressed again.

At this point, Hermione had made her winded advance to her seat. She looked at Viktor with a glare as she heaved in the air from the exercise of chasing him.

“Viktor, when I get my wind back, I will suffocate you with a bread roll.” She threatened with a grin on her face.

Severus looked at her then. Something was off. Her face was flushed, she was slouching, but that wasn’t it. 

_Oh no… I’m doomed…_ Severus thought as he realized what had changed about Hermione.

“Miss- Hermione, did you get glasses?” Severus stuttered, trying to not consider how infinitely more attractive she had just become.

She frowned, her lips turning down genuinely as she caught her breath. “I did, I know I look ridiculous. Go ahead, laugh, have your fun, I can’t breathe right now, so I can’t fight back.”

He didn’t want to make fun of her; in fact, at this moment, there was the opposite reaction. 

“They look good on you, Hermione.” Severus tried to comfort her evident anxiety about the situation. 

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What?”

“I do not like repeating myself; they look good on you,” Severus affirmed.

He wasn’t lying. The way they framed her eyes, making them almost bigger, took his breath from him. He had to focus on the fact that he had been an utter prick and not that she was looking at him. 

They perched on her nose and only enhanced how intelligent she looked. It was as if her brilliant mind was evident in more than just her words, but her very appearance. 

Severus was doomed. He felt warmth flush down his spine.

“Severus, are you alright?” Hermione asked, tilting her head and looking at him curiously.

He swallowed and nodded his head, his gaze going back to the room full of students.

Once he felt the warmth that had centered in his groin had calmed, he answered her.

“Yes, forgive me, I had a thought on something pressing.” He took in another deep breath and turned back to her. “I have been incredibly and unforgivably cold and cruel to you this week. I want to apologize. It is none of my business, whom you cavort with, and I should not act like a petulant teenager if I disapprove of your choice of company.”

  
Something in her eyes changed, they narrowed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Please do not make me repeat it.” Severus pleaded, unsure how much longer he could look at her without needing a long and icy shower.

She grabbed the table tightly, leaning closer to him. “No, I just need you to clear something up.”

“I think I can do that.” He swallowed, losing a lot of his eloquence in his battle for control.

He was trying to will himself not look at her in that light, not when such a serious conversation was at hand.

Hermione’s face was red now, but it did not look like it was from not being able to catch her breath.“You’ve been a prick to me because you were jealous of Viktor?”

“I am ashamed and find myself having to admit that yes, I was.” Severus offered, incredibly confused by her almost immediate angry response.

Hermione slapped her hand on the table next to him, and Severus was now concerned. 

  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” She growled, her shoulders curling up, and she looked like she was about to hex him. The fire was back, and Severus wasn’t exactly sure he wanted it to point at him.

“I-” He began, only to be cut off.

She poked him in the chest, her voice rising. “You do not have the right to be jealous.”

“I know-” He put his hands up, trying to placate her, but she interrupted him again.

“No, now you listen to me, Severus Snape.” Hermione was almost yelling now, and the whole room was on them.

He could feel the weight of their eyes, and he knew that he did not want this to unfold in the room. 

He rose to his feet, pulling her chair out as he leveled a warning look at her. “Perhaps we should step out.”

“Fine, let’s go, but you will hear me.” She barked, pushing the chair back and standing in a fury.

“Hermione,” Viktor said, concern rife in his voice.

She turned on him, pointing her finger angrily. “Viktor- Don’t.”

Severus Snape watched as she cowed the mountain of a man with a glance.

He was doomed.

  
She stormed ahead of him, the long cape of her robes swirling behind her in the wake of rage. He followed, his expression concerned.

_What had just happened? Where did this go all wrong?…_

  
He barely got the door closed before she was in his space, pointing at him and shouting.

“Where the hell do you get off trying to come to me with some bullshit apology because you were jealous of Viktor. Jealous of what? Why do you have any reason to be jealous?” Her voice was rising with each word.

“Hermione - if you would just let-” He tried, but she gave him no room to speak.

“No, you said enough. You said it all a long time ago. If I was the last witch in the world, you would not be that desperate. Remember? DO YOU REMEMBER? I HAVE NEVER FORGOTTEN!” Hermione was howling mad now, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring. Severus didn’t think he’d ever seen her this angry before in the entire time that he’d known her.

Unfortunately, in addition to being worried and concerned, he found himself strangely and inappropriately aroused. 

He tried again to calm her, to get a word in edgewise. “I-”

She sliced the air with her hand, effectively silencing him. “I’m not finished. Do you remember how you spoke to me? Do you remember what you said? Do you know that I ran away from there, and cried my eyes out because of your cruelty? Do you know that I said yes to Ron because of what you said? Do you even know how much you’ve done? Do you know how worthless I still feel?”

Hermione had tears running down her face, even as she screamed at him.

“I am -” He wanted to apologize and tell her how he hadn’t meant it. How he was trying to save her.

“I’m not done talking, Severus!” She screamed, stomping her foot.

There was no doubt that everyone in the hall could hear her, even though the closed door.

“I cared for you then. I won’t lie, because it doesn’t matter anymore. I cared for you deeply, and you knew. You looked into my mind and used my most secret thoughts against me. You tormented me and became every bit the monster that I had been telling everyone you weren’t.” 

Her words were like agony to his ears. “I am so sorry.”

“You don’t get to be sorry. If it wasn’t for you, I would have never married Ron in the first place.” Her howl was so pained that Severus winced as if he were the one feeling the pain of her words

In his own way, he was. She had just made his fears real. He was the reason that she married Ronald. Her torment was his fault. Any of the warmth he felt turned iced cold.

“I-” He tried again, he was desperate for her to let him speak. Severus had never had someone so bold as to stop him from using his words. It was not something he understood.

“I don’t want to hear it! You’ve said enough for a lifetime. Your debt is paid now. You don’t have to pretend like you care about me anymore.” Her tears were big, and the glasses fogged over her eyes, but she still kept yelling.

“But I-”

She poked his chest again, hard, like she was driving her words into him. “Don’t lie to me! It’s bad enough that I was foolish to believe it. But you, it’s you. You played me, hook, line, and sinker. I thought you had changed. I thought, oh my god, I thought that you had changed.”

She stopped yelling and covered her face with her hands, sobbing. Her shoulders curled forward, and Severus watched her break apart before his eyes.

He put his hand on her shoulder to try to comfort her. “Hermione.”

“Don’t touch me.” She hissed, jerking from him like she’d been burned by his touch.

  
He stood there, dumbfounded. He had no idea what had just happened, he didn’t know what to do. 

Severus listened to her crying for a few moments, before he found the words. ”Hermione, I’m sorry. I am so sorry for what I said and what it did to you. I have spent my whole life making mistakes, and I will spend the rest of it trying to make this right.”

She uncovered her eyes, and the angry glare was there again. 

“Don’t hold your breath, you will suffocate.” She snarled and turned around, storming away from.

“Hermione.” He called after her, but she did not stop.

“Hermione!” Severus yelled, but she stepped out of the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

  
Severus leaned against the wall, supporting himself with his elbow as he held his face. He didn’t know where they came from, but he felt tears leaving his eyes. He was crying.

 _It was all my fault… Merlin, I was such a fool…_ Severus thought, sucking in air as he began to let the tears take their hold. 


	26. A life built on lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

_How dare he!?_

Hermione stormed through the castle, no destination in mind, but a wash of rage. She spelled her glasses clean, trying to keep them from obscuring her view.

_Severus was not allowed to be jealous. Not of Viktor, not of anyone. He has no right to feel anything like that about me…_

Hermione found herself in her old muggle studies classroom. 

She didn’t know how she got there, and she didn’t care. 

Snapping her wand, she splintered a desk into pieces. It felt good.

Another desk met its end against a stone wall. The crack echoed.

Hermione yelled, flinging furniture that she’d not been able or didn’t want to take with her at the wall.

  
“He can’t have feelings for me!”

Snap! Shattered wood flitted through the air.

  
“I am worthless to him!”

Crash! A bookcase met it’s demise, landing on the wreckage of madness.

  
“I’m not pretty enough, I’m only good for my mind.”

  
Another desk sacrificed before her rage.

  
“He said so, he said so.” She was sobbing now, the rage waning as she crumpled in the center of the room. “He can’t take back now. He can’t have feelings for me! I can’t fall in love with him again. My heart can’t take it.”

She found herself drifting back to that night, as she curled in on herself.

It was a perfect night for a disaster. The moon was out, the stars twinkled, and she’d had just enough wine that Ron trying to talk to her could keep her engaged in it.

She hadn’t expected it when he got up, came around her chair, and dropped to one knee unexpectedly. He opened a box, an antique ring, probably a family heirloom, in the box.

“Hermione, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

She felt the hush of the room, all the eyes on her.

“No.” She put her hand on the box, closing it.

Ron had the nerve to look surprised. “What?”

“No, I will not marry you?” The wine made it easier for her to tell him soundly off.

“Hermione, everyone is watching…” Ron growled, his teeth showing through a raised lip.

She raised the glass to him, smiling. “And they heard me tell you no.”

He stood up then, the box clutched in his hands as he pulled the chair right up next to her.

Ron got his face close to hers. “Why not?”

She took another drink, looking into the blood-red liquid with a smile, watching as it rolled around in the glass. “I don’t think it will work out.”

He snatched her hand, making her look at him. “That’s not it; it is because of him, isn't it?”

“Who?” Hermione asked lazily, feeling more of her resolve build with every second of him being a child that wasn’t getting its ways.

“That greasy git you’ve been letting bugger you while you take care of him.”

She smiled over the rim of the glass, shaking her head. “Ron, go home to your mother before you make a bigger fool of yourself.”

He slammed his hand down the table, and she rolled her eyes as he pointed his finger at her. “You didn’t deny it, it’s true, you and the git.”

Hermione amused herself with the thought, let it show on her face that she was considered it. “No, but if you keep insisting, maybe I might make it so.”

“Don’t you dare. You are mine.” His growl was dangerous and rife with a threat.

  
Hermione laughed in his face.

“No, I’m not. It’s over, Ron. I’m done. I came here to break up with you.”

It was the truth. Severus had gone over the pros and cons of a relationship with her and Ron. He’d helped her to see that Ron was using her a crutch, as a way to occupy himself from things he didn’t want to face. It was also apparent that Ron wasn’t her intellectual equal, and she would never be satisfied with their conversations. She did not want a future that revolved around Quidditch and drinking at the pub.

He seemed appalled by her response, roaring at her and causing a scene. “What, no, you can’t. You’re supposed to marry me, we’re supposed to be happy together.”

“I’m sorry. There is someone out there that can be that for you, but it’s not me.” Hermione was trying to be kind, even when she didn’t really feel like she owed it to him.

“You bitch.”

She shrugged, finishing off her wine. “If it makes you better to call me that Ron, it’s okay. But we are still over.”

“You’ll regret this.” He snapped.

“I doubt it.” Hermione got to her feet, grabbing her clutch and leaving Ron at the table. She paid the bill and decided that she’d want to share with Severus how the evening had been.

She was sure he’d be amused by Ron’s antics. He often was, he would call him a boy and remind her that Ron had always been this immature.

Hermione looked forward to just decompressing with him, enjoying the rest of the evening, and even maybe getting a bit of chess. She was tipsy enough that Severus wouldn’t have to actually work to beat her.

She walked up the stairs, pushing on the infirmary door.

She hadn’t known if Ron had time to owl his mother yet.

“Hello, I’m back.” She offered quietly, looking for Molly

She was gone. Hermione could have danced; she was so pleased.

  
“Oh thank god she isn’t here, you would not believe the night I had. How are you, did you get your potions?” Hermione asked him with a smile strolling into the room. 

“I am fine, and yes, I did.” His voice was curt and short. 

_Damn it, she’d pissed him off…_ Hermione thought as she made her way to her chair.

“Oh, you sound cross. Was she irritating?”

“Your future-mother-in-law informed me of how momentous tonight was.” Severus barked, and she watched as he sat rigid on the bed. Something was wrong.

Hermione, however, couldn’t help but laugh, because of course, Molly would have bragged that Ron was proposing.

“She is no future-mother-in-law of mine. I told him no. You had to have known I would.” Her grin went from ear to ear as she relaxed into the seat.

 _Maybe Severus thought I had said yes and was disappointed…_ She mused, looking at him. He didn’t seem to relax any; in fact, he seemed to grow tenser.

“Why on earth would you have done that?” 

The coldness in his tone was almost as apparent as a cold breeze. Hermione leaned down, taking off the heels that had been digging into her toes. “Don’t be daft. You know why.”

“No, Miss Granger, illuminate me.”

Hermione sat up. He hadn’t called her Miss Granger for some time unless he was in jest or talked about her to someone. They’d reached the level of companionship where they were on a first-name basis. Whatever Molly had said to him had riled him up badly.

She’d have to have a long talk about the woman making him this upset. Just because he was mostly recovered didn’t mean he couldn’t have a backslide.

“Miss Granger… wow, she really did foul your mood. I told you, I don’t feel it with him. He is too much and not enough. I don’t desire him.” 

“And what is it you do desire?” The way he asked her made her feel warmth flood her body. The wine was not helping, as he had hit that tone that had more than once run rampant in her fantasies. 

His face, however, was not amused. 

“What has gotten into you. You are not normally this cross with me.” Hermione got up and sat next to him on the bed. She touched his hand to offer him support and her presence. They’d developed a sense of easy affection over the year, and so she thought nothing of it.

He snatched his hand away from her, and she felt a sting of hurt as he looked at her like she’d hurt him. “Perhaps, Miss Granger, that is because I have been made aware of your real machinations of saving my life.”

 _What the hell was he talking about…_ Hermione didn’t have the brainpower for this right now. She’d had four glasses of Merlot and had come to relax with him, not argue.

“What the hell are you talking about. We have been over this, I have no machinations, I don’t want anything from you. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

 _Molly had been meddling again…_ Hermione shook her head, looking at him like he was mad for believing the woman.

He surprised her with the finger in her face. “I am not a fool, Miss Granger, do not assume that I am.” 

“Merlin, what the fuck did she say to you?” She leaned back, scrambling into the space of the chair.

His black eyes were typically softer when he looked at her, but now, it was nothing but darkness and anger. “Nothing. While you were being proposed to, it was in my time alone that I came to this discovery.”

“I don’t know what you think you have discovered, but you are wrong.” Rolling her eyes at the mess that the Weasley’s had created for her, she rubbed her temples.

_Do I need a sobering potion for this? Is he going to rage all night?…_

“Do I need to spell it out, girl.” 

She glared at him now. Hermione hated the intonation and insinuation of being called 'girl.' It was as if she were not powerful and capable in her own right. Severus knew this, they’d talked about before. Now he was just nasty with her. “I am not a girl, and you know I do not like it when you do that.”

“Yes, you are not a girl now, you are a woman. That is part of the fantasy, isn’t it.” 

The way he looked at her made her shiver under the velvet, and she had to get distance from him. She didn’t know what the hell was going on. Severus never, ever, looked at her like she was a piece of meat. 

_Was he jealous of Ron proposing? What was going on?…_

Getting to her feet, she put her hands on her hips, trying to understand him. “What?”

“It is really juvenile, Miss Granger, for you to have gone through all this, for some silly schoolgirl fantasy.” Severus sounded like he was talking to her like she was lower than low.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She stomped, getting angry because none of this made any sense. When she had left less than three hours ago, he was in a good mood. He’d been content and reading his book and even joked with her that he awaited her return and not stay out too late. 

“Do not take me for a fool!” He bellowed, on his feet, shakily. She wanted to reach out to steady him, but he was so angry that she thought better of it.

“I will if you are being so foolish to act like one.” She said, shaking her hands before putting them back on her hip. He was acting like a five-year-old right now, but for no reason. 

_Had he taken his potions, was this a pain-induced fugue?…_

Severus got so close to her that she could smell the potions on his breath. He washed over her as he whispered to her. “Miss Granger, I know what you want.”

“If you know, fucking tell me, because I have no idea what you are talking about,” Hermione growled, looking into his eyes with a challenge.

She was taken by complete surprise when he grabbed her head and kissed her. His mouth smashed against hers, pressing hard. It was not a kind kiss. 

She sent him backward with her hands, her fingers coming to her lips as she looked at him. “What the fuck.”

_Had he lost his damn mind?…_

“That is what this is. Some chance for you to indulge in a fantasy, to have saved your surly professor in the hopes that your kindness will turn him into a better man and then have him take you.” He glared, angrily panting at her.

The look on his face was anger and hatred, and she felt her happy feelings from the evening sinking. 

“Merlin, you’ve lost your fucking mind.” 

_Had Molly given him something? What he cursed?..._ She looked at him, looking for signs of some kind of answer for these actions. This was not the Severus Snape that she’d spent so much time with. 

“Have I Granger? Have you not been increasingly intimate with me. Testing the waters, trying to see how accepting I am of your touch.” 

She stopped looking at him for signs. While she had been very physically affectionate, it had not been with an ulterior motive. Everyone deserved to be comforted, and she had always read it as if he liked her in his personal space. “You are being ridiculous.”

Severus showed her yet another sign of a child, crossing his arms across his chest.“I think not. I think you are displeased that your little fantasy was ousted before you got the chance to earn your way into my heart.”

  
 _Molly must have tampered with the potions. Oh no, what if someone had come in here when there was no one to watch him..._ She should have never left him; she knew that Molly was too weak of spirit to stand up to him for long.

“Where did this come from?” She pleaded with him, trying to look for some sign of what was obviously someone tampering with him.

He shook his finger at her. “You have spent your entire educational career trying to get acknowledgment from me. Saw a chance to earn it and took it. You have been wandering this infirmary, watching me with lusting eyes, and I know it. Do you deny it?” 

“Severus, please, you are acting irrationally.” Hermoine pleaded, trying to appeal to his better nature, she knew it was there. She would have to run a check over him once this rage was over. It usually didn’t take this long for one from his pain to pass.

He got up again, taking a step toward her. She held his eyes as he spoke to her.

“Granger, let me make this clear. If that is your price for my life, then go on, take it.”

His hand grabbed her hip, jerking her forward into him. This vulgarity was not him. This was not how he acted with her. Severus never once made any motion of being forceful. Something in her stomach knotted.

Hermione gave him a hard shove, knowing she’d have to heal him from it later, but not being able to have him close to her like this. “What the fuck is wrong with you.”

Fear had crept into her. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. 

“Is this not your end goal. Or shall I pretend to grovel and speak sweet nothings in your ear? Shall I worship you and tell you that I am changed man, and you’ve made my heart into gold? Is that what you need?” 

His mocking tone made her feel small and angry.

“I need you to sit down over there and stop touching me.” She pointed at the bed, taking enough steps that she could ensure he’d not do something they both regretted.

  
“Your act is commendable. But I knew when you said you were thinking of leaving Ron, the only man who has seriously taken an interest in you, that you were doing so because you thought that someone else would want you. Are you so daft Granger, to think that I would be the one that wanted you.”

His words cut her like a knife. She thought he’d be happy. While they had never spoken about it, there had always been this unspoken feeling that she thought they shared. A companionship, affection, a friendship at least.   
And now it was that she was a fool, she’d read too much into how he received her. It was all one-sided. 

“I- I-” Her heart hurt as she tried to find words against this.

He acted like he was putting a show for someone. “See, stunned to silence because the great plot has been unraveled.” 

She felt the first tear run down her cheek. “Stop it.” 

Her heartfelt like it was breaking. Severus had been the only one who looked at her like she was important to him, and now, it was, she was wrong.

“Granger, you must face this reality, sooner or later, so let me be the one to let you know how the world works. You are not beautiful, you are not pretty, you are not any of the things the world cares for on the outside. The only thing that is of any import to anyone around you is that brilliant mind.” 

It was like he was finding every inch of her insecurities and shredding them in front of her. It was the first time in a long time that his words actually hurt her again.

She pleaded with him now. “Please stop.” 

“But that brilliant mind is tempered with your insufferable chatter and your insistent need to be both right and to have people tell you that you are right. Do you really think that anyone else but poor stupid Ronald is going to want to marry you?”

It was a punch in the gut. While she never had notions that Severus was the kind who would want that, saying someone would have to be stupid to marry her was insulting.

“Severus, stop.” She said more firmly, holding her hand over her chest as she tried to stop tears from overtaking her voice

Maybe it was the wine, but she had no defenses against his cruelty. She’d not seen this man since she was a student.

He stood up, and she took a step back. 

“That is Snape to you. This whole fantasy that you have built in this room, Granger, is over. The nursing me back to health so that I can lust for you and take you as my thanks plot is exposed.”

“No.” Hermione cradled herself.

_This wasn’t what was happening…_ This had to be some mad nightmare, and she would wake up in her chair, having fallen asleep reading any second now.

“If you want sex as payment Granger, then all means, speak up. I’ve whored myself out to Dumbledore and Voldemort, who used me for what they desired. While not in the carnal sense with them, how is this any different than that.” 

She stood straighter, eyes narrowing. Severus would not compare her to them. Hermione was nothing like either of them, and she had never ever tried to force him into anything. She would not ask him to make those kinds of sacrifices. The fact that he thought that sex with her would be as trying was not nearly as heartbreaking as the idea that he thought he was like them.

“You are wrong?”

“Am I, girl?” He pointed his cane at her and Hermione put her hands out, trying to see if she could calm him.

There had to be a logical reason for this.

“Severus.” 

“You forget, I am a skilled Legilimens. I can see what you want, and your walls have been open to me for some time now. I have watched your idle fantasies of kissing me. I have been party to your lewd thoughts. You cannot hide them from me.” 

Hermione gasped, holding her chest. He’d invaded her mind. Severus had broken her trust in him and watched her inner thoughts without considering her privacy? “You invaded my mind?”

“Yet, you do not deny it.” 

She was still shocked and hurt and felt violated that he would do that to her. “You invaded my mind? Severus, you, you, I thought you-” 

“What, that I shared such desires. Most days Granger, I indulge your idle touching because it makes you shut the hell up.” He screamed, and she jerked back, unaccustomed to him reaching those volumes.

 _Was he telling her the truth? Had everything else been a lie?..._ She knew that he had many masks; she’d been through them all this year. But she’d never seen him like this. Was this his true self that he’d been concealing from her.

“You could have said something before.” She whispered, shaking her head.

“I do all the time. I tell you to shut up sometimes fifty times a day, and yet do you? No, you do not. You prattle and prattle, and it can make a man insane. Any man who married you will be insane. And here you are, throwing away your chance with the one man who might be able to stomach you for the rest of your life, for some schoolgirl crush.”

Hermione couldn’t stop the tears now. Her breathing was coming fast as she began to openly weep. Ron was a poor choice; Severus had said so himself. Why would he now say that Ron was the only one who could stomach marrying her? As if loving her was a chore.

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because it is the truth, and I am tired of sitting here, waiting for you to get the nerve to take what you want. Here I am, Granger. If this is what you want, then I am your willing servant.” 

He held himself open to her, and she took a step back again, shaking her head as she cried. While she had entertained the idea, it was never under any of these assumptions that he made. 

“It’s not what I want.”

“Then what did you expect was going to happen, fool girl? I am not a nice man; I am not a man who your pure heart bullshit can turn into a shining prince. I know who I am, I know what I am good for. You, however, hold yourself to a much higher esteem than you actually are. If you were the last witch on the planet and I was the last wizard, I would not even be that desperate to desire you then.”

Something in her fell apart. Her heart had divided into shards of glass, and she felt them cascade through her, opening wounds and making her bleed.

“Please stop.” She cried.

Hermione just wanted him to stop. Even if this was a rage, he never had been so cold-hearted, so vicious with her. He was hurting her, and she wanted him to stop. Hermione had not come here for this, and she’d not expected it.

“I will not stop, and your tears are meaningless. You think crying will save you from the inevitable time that you are no longer useful. Do you think Potter is going to keep you around once you can’t be the one who saves the day for him? You are a tool, and once they are done with you, they will throw you away.”

“That is not true,” Hermione shouted, holding her arms and rocking up to her toes.

He was saying it to be mean, he was saying it to get to her. 

That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt her. That she didn’t want to scream and sob.

“I do not lie about these things. You are wasting my time and my patience.”

“This isn’t happening.” She grabbed her head, turning to pace for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around how this had gone so badly.

“Yes, it is. I know I have shaken your master plan loose, but you have to learn to adapt if you are going to stay useful.”

“I can’t believe I am hearing this.” She didn’t look at him; she grabbed her hair, which had been up and curled her fingers. She was trying to decide to stay or to leave. Everything in her was screaming for her to go. Her face was hot and red, and she couldn’t stop crying.

“Well, you are. Now, you have a chance, right now, to make your little twisted fantasy a reality.” He was still sitting there, opening himself to her like she was going to jump his bones. 

She growled at him firmly, pressing her barefoot hard into the stone.“No.”

  
“If you do not take this chance, I will consider it abandoned debt, and I will owe you nothing.” 

There he was about that stupid life debt. If she’d wanted to have a life debt on him, she would have already told him what she wanted. And what kind of person did he think she was. She was so hurt and so mad that she glared. “You already owe me nothing.” 

“A life debt, you fool. I owe you for my life, and if this is your price, I will pay for it.” 

Hermione couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. She held her face, crying as she tried to tell herself that this was going to be okay. It would be okay somehow, he didn’t mean.

But there was a voice in her telling her that Severus meant every word. And worse, even than that, was that it was the truth. He’d told her that all her insecurities were real. 

  
“Granger, you will never know love. You will never know what it is that all the women who are prettier than you do. You don’t deserve it. You are too proud, too demanding, too grating to the nerves.” 

It was like he didn’t know how to stop, that he wouldn’t stop until she was nothing but a sobbing mess on the floor. What had she done to him to deserve this?

“You are a cruel bastard.”

“Yes, but at least I know my place in the world. I’m not trying to be what I am not.”

 _How dare he!…_ “Neither am I.” She shouted at him, turning at him with venom. 

She did not pretend to be smart, she was smart, did not pretend to be anything she was not.

  
“Granger, you are so stupid and naive and stubborn. I have lived in this world, I know what it does to people who don’t fit the picture of perfection. If you don’t marry that boy, you might get used to being alone because no one else is going to come around and want you.” 

It stuck and stung. Hermione believed him, and yet she was so mad that he would say these things to her that she wanted to light him on fire.

“I hate you.”

She meant it. She said it like she had when Severus had tormented her about her teeth. When he’d cut her down and made her feel like she was not good enough. 

“And yet, your sick little mind still wants to fuck me.”

“No, I don’t.” Her hands were fists now and she fighting not punching him in the mouth that spewed such atrocities.

His smile was making it very hard for her to hold herself back. If she didn’t feel so miserable and wasn’t as tipsy as she was, she might have very well hexed him.

“Then get out Granger. Get out of here and don’t come back. If you do, I will just remind you of who you really are. You are a sad, sorry little muggle-born, who so desperately wants to be seen as important when you are really insignificant. You want to be the best, and you hide in your books because you cannot compete. You will be outdone, out planned, outmaneuvered at every turn. You will be looked over and passed over for things you would have gotten if you were prettier or more pleasing to listen to.”

_I have to get out of here. I will kill him if I don’t get out of here..._

“You are wrong.” She fumbled with her clutch, trying to keep from dropping it with how bad she was shaking.

“I am never wrong about these things. You are worthless, Granger. Worthless to me and to anyone else who might take a fancy in you.”

“I hope you choke on your words.”

She gathered her things and put them in her clutch, her chest ablaze with pain, hurt, and anger.

She turned around and stormed to the door. Her pride was in shambled, and her self-confidence had never been lower. She just wanted to go home and cry.

“If you walk out that door Granger, this offer is gone. You will never be able to tell me I owe you anything in the future.” 

Hermione Granger wanted to kill whoever invented life debts at that very moment. “I don’t want your stupid debt. I wanted to do what was right, but Ron was right, I was just protecting a monster.”

“I am what you made me to be.” He smiled, and Hermione wanted him to rot for this. 

“Go to hell.” 

“I’ve been there, it’s been here with you for a year. Anything else would be heaven.” She slammed the door and barely made it to the fireplace to floo home.

But home was also with Ron. She stumbled into the fireplace of their shared flat, sobbing, and shaking on the floor.

She heard footsteps in the room, running toward her, and suddenly there were hands on her, pulling her up.

“Mione? Oh Merlin, babe, what’s wrong?” Ron’s voice was concerned and soft.

He should have been mad, after what she’d done to him. But here he was looking at her with concern.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry you were so right about him. He’s a fucking monster.” Hermione sobbed, grabbing hold of his jumper and pulling him down to her.

Ron wrapped her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“What did he do to you? I’ll kill him.” Ron growled in her ear, and she shook her head.

“No, nothing, I just, I’m sorry, I was so stupid. I’m so sorry.”

He rocked her there by the fireplace for a few minutes, rubbing her back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. That git will never hurt you again.”

  
“Ron, I’m so sorry about dinner. I just, I wasn’t thinking.” Hermione offered, looking to him for forgiveness.

“It’s okay, we will have another dinner. I know he had manipulated you. But you have to make me a promise, alright?” Ron whispered, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears away.

“What?”

Ron’s eyes went hard again for a second as he looked up into the fire and then softened when he looked back at her. “You will never see Severus Snape again. Can you do that?

“Yeah, I can, I don’t want to see his face again. You won’t believe what he said to me.” Hermione whined, holding on to Ron like he was her lifeline.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, and you can tell me all about it,” Ron said, picking her up and carrying her bridal style.

“How did you know I would be home, why aren’t you are your mother?” Hermione wondered aloud, her head on his shoulder.

“Mum talked some sense into me, told me that you’d be back and that you’d come to your senses. She said that I had pressured you too fast and embarrassed you. That I needed to ask you less publicly.”

“I never thought I would say I thank Merlin for Molly Weasley.”


	27. Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

The door behind him opened and closed.

“Severus.”

He covered his face with his hand, wiping away the tears with his fingers.

“Go away, Minerva.” Severus groaned, not looking at her.

He could see her standing to his side. “We both know that isn’t going to happen. Now, pull yourself together.”

  
He stood upright and turned from her, wiping his hand over his face again. “Can’t a man have a moment to-, fuck what are the words,”

“Cry. And yes, a man can have a moment to cry, but right now, you have a job to do.” Minerva’s voice lacked any of her typical warmth.

He would not admit to crying, he’d sooner die than admit it.

“And what may I ask, is that?” Severus said, finally composing himself enough to look at her.

She was standing there, her arms crossed, her lips in a straight line. Severus knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

“There is a teacher currently destroying school property on the fourth floor. And I told you a long time ago, Severus, I would not be bailing you out of what came from this.”

That explained the tone and the face. Minerva, the only other witness to his grand mistake, knew what they had been fighting about.

“So, you know the topic of her rage.” He asked, gesturing toward the door she had slammed close.

“Severus, unfortunately, most of the head table, and many of the students know the topic. She was not quiet.” Minerva offered, and Severus groaned, rubbing his face while asking Merlin why he’d been such a fool.

“What am I going to do?” He asked her, looking to her for some kind of answer, even though he knew she was not going to help him. She’d yelled at him until dawn that night, until he was pleading for her forgiveness.

“Severus, you should have thought about that before you let Molly Weasley talk you into chasing her away.” The way she said the woman’s name told him that she was just as displeased as her as she was with him.

At least Severus wasn’t the only one on Minerva’s shit list this week.

  
“Minerva, please.” He asked softly, looking at the floor. His hair obscured his eyes. It was intentional so that she would not know how red they were.

She shook her head as she dismissed his plea with her hand. “No. I told you that whatever came from this, whatever storm, it was yours to weather and repair. You savagely attacked her with words. I’ve been waiting for this explosion. I’m surprised that it happened so late after her getting here.”

Severus looked at her now, trying to not feel betrayed, but knowing that she wasn’t lying to him.

“Are you enjoying this, Minerva.” Severus wanted to know because it sounded like his suffering was something she’d looked forward to.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her roll her eyes so hard before. “Yes. About as much as I enjoyed what you did to her.”

“I thought Gryffindors didn’t know how to be sarcastic.” He quipped, straightening his robes and trying to get everything in order.

Minerva quipped back to him without hesitation. “I thought Slytherins don’t cry.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve obviously something on my cuff that irritated my eyes.” He corrected, shaking his cuff to make it seem more prominent.

“There is the Severus, I know.” The Headmistress sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Minerva.” Severus looked at her, trying to convince the older and wiser woman to help him.

“Severus.” She mocked him, using the same tone.

He would have to grovel it seemed, or at least, prostrate himself so much as to make her aware that he seriously needed his help. Severus didn’t know how to make this better, since everything had so quickly gotten so bad.

“Do you have any advice you are willing to give me. I don’t- she wouldn’t even let me speak?” He justified, trying to show reasons he needed help.

She rose her brows at him and shoot her head, waving her hand at him. “A new concept for you, I am sure. Perhaps, Severus, you should do less speaking, isn’t that what started this mess in the first place.”

“And then what do you propose I do?” He crossed his arms now. He was starting to think that maybe Minerva didn’t know what he should do either.

  
“Listen, Severus. You are a poor listener when it comes to these kinds of conversations. You are too busy trying to find out what’s behind the words, and not what is actually being said.” Minerva sounded frustrated with him, and he could understand it. He was frustrated with himself.

They stood there for a few moments, and he rubbed his forehead, looking at the door she’d left out of.

“I still don’t understand how we went from there to here.”

Minerva paced for a few moments and then sighed heavily like she was about to dip her feet in cold water.

“Severus, oh Merlin, help me. Severus, Hermione- likely still has deep feelings for you. “ She offered a warm tone coming back to her.

“Yes, and they are currently rage and desire to murder.” He bemoaned, as it is evident to him.

Minerva smacked him in the shoulder, making him look at her with disbelief. “No, you are an idiot. She is mad because she cannot handle the idea that you have feelings for her now. Because you so brutally destroyed her last time, she is angry, trying to push you away because she cannot bear to be hurt again. Sound familiar? Like a young man I knew, who was so brokenhearted that he pushed the whole world away because he’d been so hurt.”

Her piercing eyes made him uncomfortable, as about as painful as the comparison. “Minerva, that was different.”

“In root cause, yes, but you still have been in her shoes. What did you need to most when you were the let’s burn the world phase?” She asked, one hand on her hip as she fixed him with a pointed gaze. 

“I’m not sure I ever wanted to burn the world?”

Another eye-roll and she huffed at him. “It’s a figure of speech, Severus. What did you need when you were so mad you were breaking things.”

He looked at his hands. Severus didn’t know what he needed then, because he’d never gotten it to know it was what he needed. “I-, I don’t know Minerva.”

“To not feel like you were the only one hurting.” Minerva offered like it was something trivial that he should have known.

“What are you saying?” Severus asked, feeling like he was missing the point of the conversation.

“I’m saying it is high time that you let Hermione know why you said what you said and did what you did. Instead of apologizing, instead of trying to hope, she will forget it, why don’t you let her know what happened that night, Severus. And then when you do, shut up and listen to what she has to say about it.”

Severus was so frustrated. That wasn’t going to work, he’d just tried to explain himself, and she’d blown up at him like a volcano. “She will not believe me, Minerva, even if she lets me get a word in.”

“I think you are wrong. I think she has been so meddled with by her mother-in-law that Hermione will be able to connect some missing dots.” Minerva offered, stepping to the wall and leaning against it, watching him. It was evident that this was all the advice she was going to give him.

He was honestly surprised she gave him this much. Minerva had sworn to him that this was his mess to clean up.

  
“So you suggest I go up there and spill to her that I was in love with her and that I trusted that Molly knew better so I pushed her away so that she could be happy, only to actually push her into the arms of an abuser who broke her?” He asked incredulously as if it were the worst idea ever.

Minerva had the gall to smile and nod. “Perhaps with a little more eloquence and explanation, but yes.”

“And will you pick up my pieces after she blasts me to bits.” He growled, now taking his turn to pace as he thought over the prospect. 

“No, Severus. I won’t.” It was precise and short. Minerva was not helping him with this aftermath.

“Why not.”

Minerva shook her head and looked at him like she was looking at a first-year who had asked something outrageous. “Because blasting you to bits would be a kindness to what she has suffered. No, Hermione won’t hurt you. If she wanted to, she would have all those other times that she’s had a chance. She still cares, and it is eating her alive right now.”

“I know that feeling.” He groused, rubbing his sore eyes.

“Then how about suffering alone, you go suffer with her.”

He stopped his back and forth motion, looking at the door. “And if I don’t?”

“Then, I will regretfully have to call you a coward,” Minerva whispered quietly.

A spark of rage caught in his throat as he turned to her. She didn’t have a look of malice on her face. Instead, he thought she looked sad at the prospect of him not following through. 

“Minerva.” He warned.

She did not back down from her statement.

“Tell me that you are not acting as such. You know what you must do, I have spelled it out for you, and yet you are afraid to do it. By definition, that is cowardly. I do not want to rub salt in a wound, but I will call a spade a spade.”

Another moment of silence fell between them, and he thought about what she had suggested. It was not the worst idea, but it also had a significant chance of blowing up in his face. He didn’t like leaving things to chance, it was a personal flaw he supposed.

But Minerva was right. 

“You are right, but you are a pain.”

She smiled at him, moving to go back to the Great Hall.

“I am aware. Now, go before she moves on to your classroom.”

She left him in the quiet, and Severus stood there for a few minutes, tempering his resolve with the fact that this was something he needed to do in order for her to heal. If she was holding on to what he’d done and said, how would she ever get over Ron.

  
Severus walked to the fourth floor, struggling between two selves. 

His first self wanted to leave this issue alone, hoping that it would solve itself without his intervention. He didn’t want to feel the pain, he didn’t want to admit that he’d been manipulated. 

His second self was so desperate to both help Hermione and tell her the truth. He wanted to see her smile again like she did at the sun before going to Hogsmeade.

The latter was obviously winning.

He made it to the fourth-floor landing, and he could hear her pitiful cries. He crept and spied her lying on the floor of the room, crying.

“He can’t take it back now. He can’t have feelings for me! I can’t fall in love with him again. My heart can’t take it.” Her quiet whisper made his own heart squeeze in his chest. It was one thing to think it, but to know that she’d felt that way once changed the sensation of pain.

  
Severus stepped into the room, quietly closing the door and walking toward her. She didn’t notice him, and he used it to his advantage, for the moment. When he got to about six feet from her, he sat down, crossing his legs.

“Hermione.”

Her head snapped up at him, and her wand was at the ready. Even on the floor in a prone position, she looked dangerous.

“What do you want?” She snarled, pushing herself up into a kneeling position.

He surrendered, placing his wand on the floor in front of him, with his hands up. “I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Hermione half growled, half cried.

“I understand that, but neither of us leaves this room until the truth of the matter comes out,” Severus explained. 

He’d put a lock on the door, and he was not taking it off until she knew the truth. Come hell or high water, Hermione was going to understand why he’d been the worst human being on the planet.

  
Hermione got to her feet, walking over to the door and giving it a yank. “What truth is there, Severus? You can’t say it didn’t happen, you can’t say you never said it.”

“You are right. But this is me trying to make things right.”He watched her, but he did not get up, nor did it pick his wand back up.

She tried an unlocking spell on the door, but it did not work. “Then what is there to talk about.”

  
Severus rubbed his forehead. This is what he was not looking forward to, but he knew he had to do it.

“Hermione has it ever occurred to you that I might have had very good reasons for chasing you away that night.” He asked her honestly.

“I don’t think any reason you can give me will equate with very good.” She said, hands on the door before she gave it a swift kick.

He nodded, keeping his tone even. “Correct, because now, they were the wrong reasons, but then, I thought I was doing the right thing.”

She gave up on the door and stood in front of him. “How could that have possibly been the right thing. How in anyone’s mind was that the right thing.”

She was beautiful. The moonlight had started pouring into the dark room, and she was silhouetted by white light.

 _Severus, stop it… Now is not the time…_ He told himself, looking at the floor.

“I admit, I can’t explain why I didn’t come up with a different solution. Mrs. Weasley had me so angry that I thought it was the only way to save you.” He explained, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Save me from what? I wasn’t in any danger then.” She yelled at him, her hand on her hip now.

Severus took a moment, taking several deep breaths.  
The words were sitting there, right on his tongue, but it felt like such self blasphemy to utter them. It would reveal so much and leave him very vulnerable.

  
Finally, he was able to force them past his teeth. “From me. From a life with me.”

“What?” Her voice was soft and disbelieving.

He gestured for her to sit on the floor with him as he gathered his wits about him. “Would you like me to start from the beginning?”

Hermione sat down across from him, her wand on her lap. He made sure that his was still on the floor in front of him. It was a surrender of sorts because he was willingly disarming himself for her.

“I’m listening, but you aren’t making any sense.” She sighed, watching him.

He closed his eyes, thinking over what had happened before she’d arrived. “Molly told me about Ron proposing that night.”

“And you got mad?” Hermione interrupted with her assumption.

Severus shook his head, placing both of his hands on his knees. “No, not at all. I laughed at her. And she proceeded to tell me that our ‘affair’ was going to come to an end once that happened. Molly was assured that we were intimate and wanted to warn me so that when you came to break it off with me, I wouldn’t stop you.”

He watched as her face contorted thought an array of emotions, finally rest on confusion. 

“But you knew that wasn’t the truth Severus, the most we ever did was you fell asleep with your head in my lap.”

He sighed, nodding at her. That was the truth of how intimate they’d gotten beyond hand-holding or soft caresses. Severus had to take a moment to be able to regurgitate the telling of one of his biggest regrets.

  
“That is not why this happened, Hermione. She reminded me of some, at the time, truths. I had just, but your grace, been given my freedom. I had no prospects for a way of living or even being able to get around on my own. Molly reminded me that I couldn’t give you a life you deserved. I was, in her words, not good enough for you.” Severus's voice wavered as he spoke, and he could not look at her. 

He ached as he had said the words, still feeling those pains of inadequacy and invalidity.

“And you believed her?” Hermione asked him incredulously as if she could not believe the words he was saying.

“I did not want to saddle you with my care. I didn’t want you to give up your youth waiting for me to get better when there was no promise that I would. The fact that I am in the state I am in now is a miracle. It took me two years to not walk with a cane. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me and not living your life. She asked me if I wanted you to be happy.” Severus admitted quietly.

It was true that he’d never expected to be in any sort of physical form to do much of anything. He assumed that if he was lucky, he’d have to walk with a cane and be mindful of fits of pain. Part of him believed that he was willing to push himself farther because he had to do it all himself. Another part of him thought he kept pushing because of his guilt.

Hermione’s face went grim, and she looked like she’d heard this story before all of a sudden. “And you told her yes. What did she tell you to do?”

“She told me that you would be happy with Ron, that he loved you. That if you came back having said no, that I needed to break off ‘our silly fling’ and send you back to him because he was your chance at happiness. I was a fool because I thought, with her experience as a parent and mother, that she had some insight into the matter.” 

Hermione nodded at him, her forehead resting on her hands. She looked distraught, and Severus wasn’t sure which part was affecting her.

“She has a way of making you do what she wants.” Hermione offered with a heavy sigh that sounded like it came from her soul.

“I wanted you to have the best life. And I couldn’t give it to you. I couldn’t keep you caged up in an infirmary while I fought to get my body to work again. You’d given up a year. You deserved a chance, and I couldn’t give it to you.” Severus offered to get her to see that he’d not meant to royally fuck everything up as he had.

She looked up, her brown eyes framed in black lenses met his eyes. “You didn’t know that. You didn’t even ask me?” She said sadly, shaking her head.

“I didn’t, because I knew that you would demand to stay by my side. I knew that I would have deeper and deeper feelings for you and that I would not be able to turn you away from me.”

It was hard to admit that. He’d never even admitted it to Minerva. Severus had been so quick to push her away because he knew that if he didn’t do it then, he never would have. If he could go back and punch his former self, he would have gladly saved her this pain.

“So you what? You lied? You made up that whole act to make sure I ran back to Ron.” Anger came back to her voice as she looked for answers in his face.

Severus dropped his head in shame. It had been a poor choice, but at the time, he thought it was the only thing he could do.

“I did. I accept the responsibility of the hurt it caused you, but my intentions were to make sure that you didn’t get hung up on me and that you got to do all the things you wanted. If I could go back, I would change it in a heartbeat, but I can’t.”

“I can’t believe this.” Hermione pushed herself to her feet, walking back and forth in the darkened room

  
He gestured to his wand. “I’m not lying, I can show you the memories if you’d like.”

She shook her hand at him, her hand supporting her chin once she was done. “No, I just, I can’t believe she managed to ruin everything, and I never saw it. I always told Ron that she meddled too much, at least, early on, when I could talk to him. I never knew that she was the reason you chased me away.”

He watched her move in frustration, like a lion pacing back and forth in a cage, trying to determine how to get out. 

“I apologize, and I know you are likely to not forgive me, but I meant what I said when I said I will spend the rest of my years making it up to you.” He was earnest.

Severus made the decision right there that he would do whatever he needed to to make this right by her. Even if it ended up with his death, he was going to make it up to her.

  
“I can’t believe, this whole time, I’ve thought-” She turned on him, looking at him with such an intensity that he felt it in his spine. “You actually cared about me?”

He swallowed, not breaking her gaze. “I did. I do.”

“And you thought that talking to me like that wouldn’t somehow affect me for the rest of my life?” She asked him, looking at him like he was an idiot. 

The fact that he felt like an imbecile made him feel like her expression was a valid one. He’d never once, in the whole encounter, or beforehand, thought about what it would do to her long term. It hadn’t been necessary, because he believed that the love she would have with Ron would fix whatever damage he did.

“I admit I did not. I was a different man then, Hermione. I had just come out of a war I never wanted to live through, and I thought I was going to be given to the dementors. You were the one bright spot, and I thought for the longest time that you were temporary. That the Aurors would come in and cart me off, and all I would have to hold my mind together was knowing your affection.”

She sat down in front of him, within arms reach. “You are the biggest idiot in the world.”

“I have said as much to myself many times over this.” He agreed with her, sighing heavily.

“That is how he knew to be home when I got there,” Hermione said quickly, looking like she had just discovered a missing piece to something.

Severus had no idea what she was talking about, so he assumed it had to do with her soon to be ex-husband. “I beg your pardon.”

  
Hermione reached out and took his hands, looking him in the eyes as she spoke. “Ron, that night, he was already there, and he wasn’t mad like he should have been. He said Molly told him I would be back and that I would come to my senses. She knew that because of what she’d said to you.”

“That is likely the case, but I do not know, I have not seen her for some years, and I never speak to her.” He did not move his hands or hold hers back because he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Hermione shook his hands like she was trying to shake a realization into him. “That’s why he told me I was never allowed to see you again. He told me that his mum thought it was best for my sake after you’d been so cruel. But it was because you would have told me the truth. Gods, I was so stupid, she is behind all of this.”

So that is why she never came back. Severus had wondered how he’d been so effective that she never returned, but if she’d been told not to and made to believe it was in her best interest, it made sense. He would have told her the truth if she’d come back, especially after the tongue lashing it had earned him from Minerva.

He held her hands loosely, pulling her in toward him as he tried to convince her. “If I had thought for a moment, Hermione, that I would have been chasing you into this life, I would have never.”

Hermione did not pull away from him, she just shook her head, her face looking like she’d discovered a new formula. “No, I know, it’s making sense now. Merlin, I wished you told me years ago.”

“I had no reason. And when you came here, I did not think it was prudent for me to bring it up, with you being so raw.” Severus gave her a weak smile, hoping against hope that this was the start of things going better.

Hermione pulled one of her hands back, rubbing her forehead and adjusting her glasses as they had leaned forward. “I can’t believe this. Every single thing was a lie.”

He wanted to do whatever to make this right. “How can I help you? What do you need me to do?”

Severus was not expecting the wicked grin from her. “Help me bury Molly Weasley?”

“I don’t think you would do well in Azkaban.” Severus offered, still holding her hand in his.

She still grinned, this time chuckling. “Who said they would catch me?”

“Hermione.” He said teasingly.

  
Her face changed again, and she drew her hand back to her own lap. Severus felt the absence, but he said nothing.

Hermione looked at her hands for a moment and then back to him. “I- I don’t know what to say to you, Severus. You hurt me badly.”

“I know.” He replied softly.

“I don’t know if I will ever forget what you said.”

“I know.” He prepared for the worst, looking at the floor. This was where she told him to go to hell again.

“But I will try, and for the love of Merlin, do not make this hard on me, to start forgiving you,” Hermione said firmly.

He looked up at her like she’d grown another head. She was going to try to forgive him. Severus didn’t dare let himself believe it, even as his heart felt a tight squeeze from her words.

“I don’t expect it from you, but I will welcome it.” He finally managed, his voice not nearly as strong as he would have liked it.

  
Hermione picked up his wand and handed it back to him. Rising to her feet, she then reached down to help him get to his own feet. Severus took her hand, looking down at her and marveling at what had just transpired. 

As soon as he was on his feet, she had her arms around him, hugging him. Severus wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him like he had no desire to let her go.

  
How had Minerva known that this would work? However she did it, he was going to have to thank her.

He noticed the pile of broken furniture behind her and gave her a soft smile.

“Should we clean this up before the Headmistress sees it?”

“Severus,” Hermione said firmly.

“Yes, Hermione.”

“Shut up.” She teased.

He laughed. “I can do that.”


	28. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

Hermione heard movement to her side, the door shutting. She assumed it was Viktor, even though it was too quiet. Viktor could creep quietly when he needed to.

She heard him sit, and she tried to pull together words to answer the questions he obviously had.

“Hermione.”

It wasn’t Viktor, it was Severus.

Hermione twisted up with a glare, pointing her wand at him. What else could he want from her? She asked him as much.   
She pulled herself to her knees, watched in confusion as he placed his wand away from him on the floor, and lifted his hands up. What game was he playing with her now? 

He wanted to talk to her. She didn’t want to talk to him, how could she want to. Everything in her was shaky, and she wanted to punch him, rather than speak to him.

Hermione had no issues telling Severus that she had no desire to speak to him.

“I understand that, but neither of us leaves this room until the truth of the matter comes out,” Severus offered plainly.

_Of course, he would trap me in here until I let him talk… Severus has to always have the last word… what an insufferable, arrogant pigheaded man…_

She growled at him that there was no truth to be had, it was real, she knew, she lived it. She sighed, getting to her feet and walking over to the door. Grabbing the handle, she gave it a hard pull to see if it was actually locked or not.

Hermione was only half-listening to him because all she wanted to do was get away from him, to not have to look at him, and feel the utter despair and anger that she felt from it. He wanted to make this right, and she knew there was no way that this would ever be right. Her snappy response told him as much.

“Alohamora.” She tried on the door, and it did not change or open.

Hermione had let herself fall into a trap, thinking that he was changed, that he wasn’t that man. But she knew it was a lie, she just so desperately wanted to believe it.

“Hermione has it ever occurred to you that I might have had very good reasons for chasing you away that night,” Severus asked her from his position on the floor. Hermione gave the door a good kick for her frustration.

There was no way that he had a very good reason for what had happened. No purpose would ever be good enough, or sufficient enough to make her believe he had anything but contempt for her. Hermione told him that she didn’t believe him, and he continued on his explanation that he thought he was doing the right thing.

She stood over him now, looking down at him, challenging him to make sense of the matter. He paused for a moment, looking at her with wide soft eyes. Hermione didn’t know what to make of that look, but it was gone too quickly for her to examine it.

Severus kept talking, and she wanted to scream at him to shut up. Then he said Molly had been involved and he was trying to save her.

“Save me from what? I wasn’t in any danger then.” Hermione growled, shaking her fists. Ron hadn’t been a monster then, he was just a shitty boyfriend.

  
The moment became pregnant with heaviness as he looked at her. His mouth was moving like he was trying to say something but couldn’t get the words out. It bothered her, as Severus was not the type to be without something to say.

Hermione stared him down, watching as he took what could only be described as calming breaths.

“From me. From a life with me.”

When he spoke, it was as if lightning had struck, the air electric with the power of those words.

That was impossible, he was lying, there was no way that he thought he was saving her from him. He didn’t care about her. 

_Oh, merlin, what does this mean…_

Hermione could not believe what she was hearing. “What?”

  
  
“Would you like me to start from the beginning?” He asked her, gesturing for her to sit. His wand was still on the floor in front of him. It was so strange that he wanted to make himself as small a threat as possible.

She sat, but she told him that he wasn’t making any sense. None of this made any sense anymore.

It was easy for her to assume that he’d gotten mad when he discovered that Ron was proposing. Maybe, if he’d had the feelings, he got jealous then and was so cruel. 

But he told her that he’d laughed at the woman. It made sense, he would have. Severus continued to say to her what Molly had said and how she’d assumed they were sleeping together. How Molly wanted Severus to not try to stop her from marrying Ron.

Molly had been meddling, and Hermione had never realized it. However, that wasn’t what bothered her. What bothered her is that Severus knew they’d not been intimate. It never went anywhere that was even remotely sexual.

“But you knew that wasn’t the truth Severus, the most we ever did was you fell asleep with your head in my lap.” She offered, looking for answers and figuring out how this had made him do what he did.

His sigh of resignation made her worried. She was leaning on her legs, waiting for him to tell her why.

Her heart hurt as she heard Severus tell her that Molly had told him that he wasn’t good enough. That he couldn’t provide her with a life.

_Who the hell did Molly think she was..._

Severus didn’t need to provide her with any life, she had her own money and skills. She would have happily been the one to provide for him.

She looked at him and knew instantly. Molly had browbeaten him so severely that he believed that he wasn’t worthy of her. When she asked him if he thought she was telling the truth, he looked away from her. 

“I did not want to saddle you with my care. I didn’t want you to give up your youth waiting for me to get better when there was no promise that I would. The fact that I am in the state I am in now is a miracle. It took me two years to not walk with a cane. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me and not living your life. She asked me if I wanted you to be happy.” His words were a quiet whisper, if there had been any noise at all, she might not have heard him.

It made sense now. So much made sense. That vile woman had gone after a man who was already in a vulnerable state and told him that everything he believed about himself was right. And she’d used Hermione to do it.

Of course, Severus would have said he wanted her to be happy. He’d told her as much many times before that night. How could she have been so blind to her mother-in-law's influence?

A thought ran over her like ice water. Had Molly told him to treat her so horribly?

“And you told her yes. What did she tell you to do?” Hermione needed to know, she had to know what the woman had said.

This singular night changed the entirety of her life, and the person she thought was in control of it wasn’t.

When Severus explained that Molly had assured him that she’d be happy with Ron, it made her want to cry. As he told, she held her head in her hands, grappling with what this all meant.

Molly had played them all like puppets on a string. “She has a way of making you do what she wants,” Hermione admitted, sighing loudly.

He pleaded with her, trying to get her to understand his motives. 

“I wanted you to have the best life. And I couldn’t give it to you. I couldn’t keep you caged up in an infirmary while I fought to get my body to work again. You’d given up a year. You deserved a chance, and I couldn’t give it to you.”

He was such an idiot. Severus had never taken what she wanted into consideration. He never thought to even as her. The decision was made to chase her away from him without knowing if she wanted it or not. A sadness settled in her soul, making her feel heavy as she looked to him. “You didn’t know that. You didn’t even ask me?”

“I didn’t, because I knew that you would demand to stay by my side. I knew that I would have deeper and deeper feelings for you and that I would not be able to turn you away from me.”

It cut like a dagger across her heart. He’d hurt her because he didn’t think he’d be able to turn her away if she stayed. Maybe he should have listened to that feeling and known she wanted to stay with him.

The anger that was born from her pain was intense, and she looked into those black depths for answers. She wanted to know if it all was a lie, or was this a lie? She couldn’t handle the lies; she’d been locked in an untruth world for so long. She just wanted him to tell her the truth. Had he made up those words to get her to run back to Ron?

When he admitted it, when he told her that he wanted her to be free of emotions for him, she had to stand. She had to move to get space from him. So much of what he said she’d believed. Hermione, in her heart, thought that he was telling her how dreadful she was, and she’d taken it into herself.

She couldn’t believe it.

Severus offered to show her his memories, and she didn’t think she could bear it. 

Molly had ruined everything. Molly had trapped her into that life. Hermione had never once realized that she was a fly in a web.

Why had Molly been so sure that they needed to be married?

Even when Hermione had expressed concerns after that night, Molly was adamant that it would all be okay and that she was just nervous like all brides to be. Molly had been there every step of the way, cutting off every exit and excuse up to that alter.

“No, I just, I can’t believe she managed to ruin everything, and I never saw it. I always told Ron that she meddled too much, at least, early on, when I could talk to him. I never knew that she was the reason you chased me away.” Hermione paced, shaking her hands in front of her like she could reach out and strangle the woman if she were here.

Her feelings were everywhere, she was angry, she was sad, Hermione wanted answers, and she wanted a time-turner more than she had ever wanted on in her life.

  
And then he asked for her forgiveness. Her heart felt a squeeze, and she had to stop mid-step. 

“I can’t believe, this whole time, I’ve thought-” Hermione did not let the words come out. Her need for answers made her look into his eyes, wishing she knew legilimency so that she could tell if he was telling the truth. 

Hermione stared at him, looking for something. He did not look away from her, and the way he looked made her feel that she was getting the truth from him. Even though she knew he was a skilled liar, she felt like maybe, this time, it was the truth.

“You actually cared about me?” She breathed, hoping against all hopes that it was true. Everything in her screamed that this wasn’t real, that he couldn’t care about her. But there was a quiet whisper in the back of her mind urging her to believe him.

He did not break the locked gaze between then as he affirmed that not only did he care then, that he also cared now.

 _You are so stupid!!!!…_ she screamed in her mind as she looked at him.

“And you thought that talking to me like that wouldn’t somehow affect me for the rest of my life?” The words came out strangled and pained.

“I admit I did not. I was a different man then, Hermione. I had just come out of a war I never wanted to live through, and I thought I was going to be given to the dementors. You were the one bright spot, and I thought for the longest time that you were temporary. That the Aurors would come in and cart me off, and all I would have to hold my mind together was knowing your affection.”

His words took the wind out of her. Severus had been so sure she would be ripped away, no wonder it was so easy for him to push him away. He was right, he was a different man then, a bitter and angry man who didn’t even want to be alive.

Hermione slouched to the floor in front of him. Telling him he was an idiot was easy, but she had not expected him to agree so readily. It meant to her that he regretted it, even if it was a small regret, it existed.

_How much more had Molly meddled?..._ She closed her eyes, trying to think about that night, even though it was still a fresh and painful wound. 

Ron’s words filtered through her mind. “Mum talked some sense into me, told me that you’d be back and that you’d come to your senses…”

  
She didn’t even think about it as she snatched his hands, looking at him like she’d solved the problem.

That was how Ron knew to be home. Molly had planned it, she’d known that Hermione was going to say no. She’d made sure that if she did, Severus would send her back to him. Hermione explained her discovery to Severus.

He agreed it was likely, but like many, he did not associate with Molly much anymore.

It all made so much sense. She’d been forbidden from coming back by Ron, under the guise that it would make her more upset. Molly had told Ron to not let her see Severus. It wasn’t because Severus would be cruel. It was because Molly wasn’t sure if he would tell her the truth or not.

She shook his hands, trying to get him to understand that everything made sense. The madness of the evening that had haunted her had a reason, an explanation, a root source.

  
Hermione was drawn toward him, and she looked at him as he tried to say he was sorry in his own way. 

“If I had thought for a moment, Hermione, that I would have been chasing you into this life, I would have never.”

He still didn’t realize the level of deceit. He didn’t understand what had been taken from her, from them. 

_Oh Circe, there was a potential of there having been a them!…_

“No, I know, it’s making sense now. Merlin, I wished you told me years ago.” Hermione sighed, feeling heavy and light at once and not knowing how to balance in-between.

As Severus explained why he never had, she fixed her glasses before pinching her forehead.

Her whole marriage had been on a foundation of lies.

It wasn’t even her marriage, it was some puppet show orchestrated for Molly so that she got something from it.

Hermione was so furious, and she wanted to know what Molly got from forcing this to happen.

Severus broke her thoughts again with a question. “How can I help you? What do you need me to do?”

Her immediate thoughts were to murder Molly, bring her back to life, demand answers, and then murder her again.

“Help me bury Molly Weasley?” She grinned at him.

He gave her hand a squeeze. “I don’t think you would do well in Azkaban.”

Hermione had to chuckle. If she wanted to murder someone, she didn’t really expect to be caught. With her mind, background in the muggle world, and knowing the Ministry's weaknesses, she’d be able to get away with it. “Who said they would catch me?”

His voice was low and teasing at this point. “Hermione.”

  
It felt right to have him holding her hand.

But her thoughts came back to why this had all happened. If he’d thought for a moment, or even spoken to her, this would not have been the outcome.

Hermione drew her hand away from him, placing it on her knee.

  
_Can I forgive him? He asked for my forgiveness, and while he said it, it wasn’t totally his fault. Can I let go of what he said? Can I move on from it…_

Hermione found herself at a loss for words as she looked at him. He had hurt on his face, and it reflected the hurt in her heart.

  
“I- I don’t know what to say to you, Severus. You hurt me badly.” Hermione whispered, looking at her hands because the pain in his eyes made her hurt more.

“I know.” 

She shook her head, looking at him. “I don’t know if I will ever forget what you said.”

“I know.” 

Hermione watched as he looked dejectedly at the floor, like a puppy waiting to be kicked. She knew the expression well.

As much as she suffered, he suffered too, in a different way. How lonely it must have been after she left, how much had he hurt as he watched her go off and marry Ron?

It was enough.

“But I will try, and for the love of Merlin, do not make this hard on me, to start forgiving you,” Hermione offered, tilting her head down so that she could catch his eyes. 

“I don’t expect it from you, but I will welcome it.” Hermione could hear the waver in his typically powerful voice.

He’d not believed that Hermione could forgive him. Hermione herself did not know where this strength came from, but it felt like it was what she was supposed to do.

  
Plucking his wand from the floor, she handed it to him. Severus had tried to make himself not a threat, but Hermione had only ever feared his words. Severus had never given her cause to feat him for anything else.

Pushing herself up to her feet, she reached both her hands down for him. It could not be comfortable to be in that position for as long as he had been sitting there. He looked up at her with that expression again, the one she couldn’t place before as he took her hands.

It was wonder.

When he had his footing, Hermione could not help herself. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him. She buried her face into his coat, not caring that her glasses were pressing into her nose. She just wanted the closeness, to know that this was real and that she would not be waking up and crying because it had been a dream.

He held her back, and she felt his arms press her into him further. His face tilted down, his nose pressed into her hair. She could feel his warm breath washing over her. She closed her eyes, willing this moment to go on because, for once, the pieces felt like they fit. 

  
But Severus, of course, had no notion of the fact that she was savoring this moment.

She heard his voice rumble through his chest. “Should we clean this up before the Headmistress sees it?”

“Severus,” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of his overcoat.

“Yes, Hermione.” He replied curiously.

“Shut up.”

Hermione was so pleased when he laughed. “I can do that.”

  
They stood there for several more minutes until the pain from the bridge of her nose forced her to pull her head back from him. If this was a dream, she never ever wanted to wake from it. She felt safe and warm, and her chest, while it was still hurt from the pain of betrayal, held some peace.

Without warning, Severus stiffened and released her, looking down at her sorrowfully.

“Forgive me, I suspect that Mr. Krum would not be pleased to find us so closely embraced,” Severus explained, taking a respectful step back.

Hermione felt the pain of separation, but it was overridden by confusion.

“Why?” She asked him slowly, pulling her glasses up and rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Severus tilted his head at her, gesturing with his hands. “Because you two are something of an item, according to my understanding.”

Hermione laughed hard, her hands coming to her stomach as she bent with it. “Oh, Merlin, Severus. No, no, not at all.”

“But- You-, you go everywhere together, and you are very, touchy.” Severus was awkward as he spoke as if he didn’t know how to handle her at this moment.

 _Of course, he would think that they were together, it was why he was jealous…_ Hermione mused.

“Severus, Viktor Krum is one of my best friends, and he is seeing someone else.” She said, closing the distance between them and placing her hands on his arm.

“Oh?” A raised eyebrow joined his response.

“Yes, I can’t tell you who, it’s a secret because of his fame and the other person’s reputation, but I had lunch with them both today. Viktor isn’t interested in me, I lack certain equipment.” Hermione gestured to her groin, trying to get the point to Severus without being vulgar.

Severus looked like someone had told him that Christmas was early. “You are joking.”

“If I’m lying I’m dying.” She shrugged her hands on his cuffs.

“Well, in that case.” 

Severus enveloped her in another embrace, bringing her tightly to him. Hermione surrendered to the warmth, letting it be a balm for her bruised feelings.

* * *

**IS THE DECK STACKED AGAINST GRANGER?**   
**A LOOK AT THE HISTORY OF WITCH LED DIVORCES.**   
**By Romilda Vane**

**Hermione Granger-Weasley, hopefully soon to be just Granger, came to the office yesterday to speak with me. When I tell you that this woman is scared, I mean it. She was nearly in tears as she explained that Hermione feared the courts would not grant her the divorce she seeks. Even though her husband is currently in Azkaban for trying to kill her!**

**I was baffled but did my best to comfort Hermione as she explained to me her reasons. Apparently, in the last fifty years, only five witches have been granted divorces, even though wizards had been awarded ten times that number. I fact-checked this myself and found myself distressed over this news. It was the truth.**

**Here was a heroine of the wizarding world, frightened that her life would remain tied to a man who killed her child and ruined her vision. As you can see here in these photos, Hermione had to go and get glasses. The damages that Mr. Weasley did to her eye, and her body have left her feeling weak.**

**I need not remind you that this a woman who lived through the torture of the dark witch Bellatrix Lestrange with her mind intact. And yet, what she has suffered at the hands of her husband has shaken her. As it would any witch.**

**Hermione fears that since she is a muggle-born trying to dissolve a marriage with a pureblood, that even her contributions to society and the proof of the abuse will not be enough. Is this the society we want to live in?**

**A society where our heroes, who bleed and fought and sacrificed, are so blatantly under-served by our courts? How can this woman, who has been fighting for our lives since she was eleven, deserve to be magically and legally tied to her tormentor?**

**I am worried myself, as a witch of esteem, if I ever found myself in such a place, would the courts do the same? Hermione Granger-Weasley is not the first woman to be afraid of this outcome. No, there have countless requests for divorce on a witches' behalf that have been dismissed. Some of these witches have died at the hands of the husbands they have tried to flee.**

**Is this the post-war world we want? Is this what we want to leave to our children? Do we want to tell young witches that they will not be able to leave a marriage, even if they might die if they stay?**

**Hermione filed a petition for separation two years ago, even saying she was afraid for her life, but she was ignored. How can we, a world that is meant to be moving forward, be proud of this.**

**I pose this question to our Minister of Magic, what will he do to make sure that not just Hermione gets justice, but those other witches who desperately need to get away from men who harm them? Are we still second-class citizens? Are we property?**

**Or will the courts see reason and grant Hermione Granger-Weasley the divorce that she deserves?**

**I will be following this hearing closely and have already secured an interview with Hermione after the trial.**

**If you feel like this is an injustice, I suggest that you share what you think about it with our Ministry. And if you have any words for Mrs. Granger Weasley, please owl us so that we can share the support of the wizarding world with her.**

**It is time we protected her like she protected us.**

  
**Stay Witchy,**   
**Romilda Vane**

* * *

Hermione couldn’t believe how emotional and robust Romilda’s letter from the editor had been this week. When she had seen Romilda the day before, she’d not expected the witch to have an article the very next day.

It was powerful. Hermione could feel the words reaching out and touching her. Romilda was a spellcaster of renown, but her power lies in prose she could weave.

Within an hour, Hermione had one hundred owls on her desk, many offering support. By dinner, she’d received an owl from Kingsley Shacklebolt, the minister himself, saying that he would be looking into the matter personally.

She was stunned.

Never had Hermione grasped how much this could change the legal system, not just for her.

She’d even gotten a letter from Roxanne, the woman at Draco’s club.

  
**Mrs. Granger,**

**I wanted to let you know that I talked with two of the other women who had been hurt by your husband. We had a long talk, and after reading the article by Witch Weekly, we decided that if you need us to testify about how violent he can be, we will. Mr. Malfoy already forwarded our information to your lawyer, so you won’t have to do anything. We owe you so much, and we will not leave you to face him alone.**

**Thank you for your kindness yesterday. I cannot tell you how much safer I feel, knowing that Mr. Weasley can never come to my job again, but that he is put away and can’t hurt anyone again.**

**With gratitude and relief,**   
**Roxanne Nititus**

  
Hermione felt something rising in her.

It was like protectiveness and drive, and a sense of duty.

Not only had Ron hurt her, but he’d also hurt others. Because she had run away and made it clear what he’d done, she’d saved someone else.

How many other women had he hurt that they knew nothing about? Ron had traveled all over the world for Quidditch and work.

Who else was out there, afraid that he would come back.

Who else had nightmares about him?

  
“I see that Ms. Vane’s work has created more for you.” Severus interrupted her thoughts, and she took the quill end from her mouth.

He was standing in the doorway to her office, a strange smile on his face. Hermione couldn’t help but smile back at him.

They’d spent the rest of the evening last night talking. 

She and Severus had eventually retired to her rooms, as they were closer to them, and she’d never been to his.

He took up his post in his chair, and they spoke about things that neither of them had ever had a chance to say. 

Hermione had explained that she never had the intention of collecting a debt, and for once, he believed her.

Severus had told her that he didn’t save her out of that debt, but because his heart had stopped when she went over the edge.

It was liberating, and yet, Hermione still had that tremor of fear that it was short-lived.

No matter how much he apologized, it would take a long time for her to get to the point that she wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I cannot even begin to read all these letters.” She said, rubbing her eye under her glasses. 

Her eye was still adjusting to the lenses, and she’d had a headache a few times in the day where she had to sit with her eyes closed just to feel better.

“I would offer my assistance, but I’m not sure how I could help,” Severus said, coming and sitting in front of her desk.

_This is as good a time as any to ask him…_ Hermione thought, looking between him and the mail. 

Hermione had wanted to ask him last night if he wanted to come to her hearing and testify about what she’d seen. It hadn’t been that kind of conversation, and she wanted to enjoy the evening and bring the shadow of what was to come over it. However, now seemed like a perfect time.

“I have a way you can help me, but it’s not with these letters.”

He was curious, looking around the room for some other evidence of a task. “And what way is that?” 

“Would you be willing to be one of my witnesses at the hearing?” Hermione breathed, pleading.

  
His face dropped from a smile to something more reserved.

“I don’t think that would be prudent, Hermione.”

“Why not.” His reaction and response made no sense at all to her.

He looked at his hands and not her. “I do not wish to be a weapon used against you.”

“How would you be-” She began, only to have him interrupt her.

“I have feelings for you, and there has been speculation that we are in an affair.” His tone was firm and a touch angry. But it didn’t feel like he was mad at her.

She tried to reason with him. “But it’s not true.”

Severus held his hand up, leaning back in the chair and sighing. “I know this, you know this, those bastards at the courts will use it and me to tear you apart.”

  
Hermione frowned, not expecting him to so strongly feel against going into the courts.

She needed him there, he was a piece of evidence she didn’t have yet.

“But you’re the only one who has actually seen him put his hands on me.”

“Be that as it may, I can’t be there, Hermione.” His tone was somber, and his expression was bleak.

“But Severus-” She nearly begged him.

“Please, trust me, it pains me to tell you no. But I cannot go back into those rooms. And I will not be made to hurt you again.” He looked away.

Hermione realized what he meant. The last time he’d been in a courtroom, to her knowledge, had been when he was being tried as a death eater. When Dumbledore saved him. It was likely very uncomfortable for him to even think about.

But he wouldn’t be in a cage, he’d be in a chair, speaking. “Severus.”

“Hermione. Please. Do not ask me again.” He looked at her, pleading with his eyes for her to let the subject drop. 

Hermione got the message. “Fine. If you change your mind-”

“I will not. But if it does happen, you will be the first to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried a new way of doing the point of view change in this chapter. Please tell me if you like, if you do I might go back and fix a few chapters, like chapter 26, so that it is written in this format.


	29. Cadence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

To say it had gone better than Severus ever expected would have been a massive understatement. 

By the time he left her in the early morning for his rooms, Severus felt like he’d lost an anchor that had been wrapped around him for years. 

Hermione was willing to forgive him, or at the very least, make an attempt. He thought he would be dead before that ever happened.

She wasn’t involved romantically with Viktor Krum, who Severus had felt was taking unfair advantage of her. She’s spent quite some time talking about the Bulgarian player's mystery beau, saying that if Severus knew the person, that he would like them very much.

He wasn’t sure what stars had aligned, or what grace had made this turn out in such a matter, but he was grateful.

Severus went to sleep that night, feeling like things were about to start getting better.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he liked her with glasses.

* * *

  
While Hermione was dealing with the multitude of owls coming to her classroom, Severus had other issues to attend to.

George Weasley had tested all the products and sent him a list of side effects that needed to be corrected. In addition to a new idea for something that Severus was somewhat apprehensive about.

**Severus,**

**You are brilliant, I cannot believe how well some of these worked. We are going to make a fortune, mate. Here is what I noticed and what I think needs adjusting.**

**Panic Puffs - Vertigo and Vomiting. Maybe try adding some Ginkgo Biloba just before you stir the mix.**   
**Tension Toffee - Mad Belches. Honestly, it would be great to have as a prank product, so don’t scrap the formula. Could use some ginger in the boiling process, maybe, but not leave it in because the flavor would suffer.**   
**Fatigue Fudge - I was buzzing with energy, so much so that Angelina kicked me out of the house and told me to go for a run. So we need to halve the energy blend of herbs.**   
**Nightmare Nougats - I didn’t have any nightmares, but my dreams were overly, well, let’s be scientific - erotic. Not necessarily a bad thing, but not what we were looking for—less Ashwagandha, like 3/4’s less.**   
**Soothing Salve - Only product that worked exactly like it was supposed to the first time. My headache went away within seconds of putting it on my temples.**

**One more thing, Angelina thought maybe you could try making like a PMS thing so that she didn’t have to deal with such rampant mood swings and cramps. I don’t know if that is even possible, but I was told to ask you or else I would have to go live in my office.**

**Thanks again for your help,**

**G. Weasley**   
**Weasley Wizarding Wheezes**

  
Severus was not sure how Mr. Weasley expected him to create a ‘PMS thing,’ but he was sure some research could be done. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to be the wizard who made it, as he had no way to test it.

Rolling up his sleeves, he returned to work, making the monstrosities that he’d agreed to create for the young man.

After three explosions of pink confectionery hell, he decided that he’d be better off working on the less fickle of the products.  
Panic Puffs did not like to be created under anything but the calmest of conditions. Severus had even begun to source theories from the book on intention-based brewing in creating these because he realized that he had a chance to test them.

He’d adjusted the Fudge, Nougat, and Toffee, but he would need to test them to make sure the mix was proper. He sent those three to George and went off to search for Hermione.

  
He found her in her office in her classroom. Hermione was up to her elbows in letters, her glasses perched on her nose as she read one intently. She had the end of her quill between her lips, worrying it between them. Severus curled his lips, feeling comfortable enough to look at her with open admiration. Hermione had not told him it was unwelcome, and he couldn’t help but feel captivated, especially now that he was no longer hiding that he had emotions for him.

If someone had told him that this is where he’d be regarding her two months ago, he would have told them to sod off.

“I see that Ms. Vane’s work has created more for you.” He offered. Severus had read the article after Minerva since she had a subscription, and there was absolutely no way in hell that Severus would ever get on. He didn’t care that it had become a news outlet, he was not going to have Witch Weekly’s coming with his name on them.

He felt warmth when she smiled at him, sitting up from her reading. “I cannot even begin to read all these letters.”

Severus watched her rub her eye, and he came into the room, taking the seat in front of it. “I would offer my assistance, but I’m not sure how I could help,”

She paused, smiling at him.

“I have a way you can help me, but it’s not with these letters.”

Severus felt a thrill of energy and have to calm himself because he knew there was no way, even with her tone the manner it was, that she was suggesting anything of the sort. He was displeased that his body had decided it would be a teenager again. He had to not look at her as he spoke. “And what way is that?” 

  
“Would you be willing to be one of my witnesses at the hearing?”

That was one way to make him stop feeling like a teenager. Severus relaxed his face, trying to determine how to tell her no, without making her angry.

“I don’t think that would be prudent, Hermione.” He offered quietly.

Not only with his emotions be a weapon with which to harm her, but his own associations could also be used to destroy her reputation. No, he would not be a tool against her.

“Why not,” Hermione asked, clearly not understanding what the implications of him testifying on his behalf would be.

He tried to explain to her what was at risk. Severus couldn’t bear to look at her as he spoke. “I do not wish to be a weapon used against you.”

“How would you be-” She protested, and he stopped her.

“I have feelings for you, and there has been speculation that we are in an affair.” And they would use it to undermine you… he finished internally, feeling angry at the thought.

“But it’s not true.”

He wasn’t sure why that hurt so much, but it did. Maybe the fact that right now he was wrestling with the fact that he wanted to be closer to him, to try and start where they had been years ago and hearing Hermione say that it wasn’t true was just as close as saying it wasn’t going to happen.

“I know this, you know this, those bastards at the courts will use it and me to tear you apart.”

  
“But you’re the only one who has actually seen him put his hands on me.” He could hear her pleading, and he wanted to tell her, yes, but he couldn’t.

On top of what damage it could do to her case, he did not wish to be anywhere near the courtrooms. They were more akin to torture chambers, and Severus shuddered as he thought of what it was like to be in that position.

“Be that as it may, I can’t be there, Hermione.” 

“But Severus-” Hermione was begging him now.

He could not look into those dark honey eyes and tell her no another time. “Please, trust me, it pains me to tell you no. But I cannot go back into those rooms. And I will not be made to hurt you again.” 

“Severus.” She was trying to reason with him, but he could not give up his resolve.

“Hermione. Please. Do not ask me again.” Severus looked at her, begging her to stop. He wished he could let her know how much it pained him to say no. 

“Fine. If you change your mind-”

He cut her off as she spoke. “I will not. But if it does happen, you will be the first to know.”

  
They sat in silence for several minutes before she sighed, rubbing her temples with a groan.

“What is wrong?” He asked her concerned.

She closed her eyes shut, wincing. “New glasses. Adjusting is giving me a headache.”

Severus looked at her for a moment, weighing in on his options. He could let her sit there and suffer, or he could try the soothing salve on her. George had said it had worked very quickly for his headache.

“Would you like me to be of some assistance?” Severus offered, leaning forward.

She did not look at him, just rubbing her head and leaning back in her chair.

“It’s just a headache, I’ll be fine in a few moments.” She waved her hand at him.

_Stubborn woman…_

“Hermione, may I please try something on you that may relieve you from your headache. Someone else has already tried it and said it worked exceedingly quickly.” Severus explained, already standing.

“Oh, I suppose.” Hermione looked at him through cracked eyelids.

“I will return in a moment.”

Since his classroom was directly next to hers, it took him no time to get to his desk. Pulling out the container of products, he grabbed the salve and left the others in the drawer. Closing and locking the room behind him, he quickly returned to her office. 

Once he was back into her office, Severus slid around her desk to get behind her.

“Please, take off your glasses and lean your head back,” Severus asked her, situation himself so that he was directly behind her chair.

Hermione glanced up at him curiously and then put her glasses on the desk.

Once her head was leaned back, Severus opened the tin, dipping his fingers into it. He put the tin on the desk and rubbed the clear substance between them.

“It may be cold.” He offered.

“I might like that, my head is pounding.”

He began to rub it into her temples, gently at first.

“That smells amazing, it’s like lavender and mint.” She said, her eyes closed with a smile.

Severus looked down at her, feeling pride that she enjoyed it. He applied more pressure, mingling the effect of the concoction with pressure point usage. 

She made a noise that went right from ears to his groin. It was more sinful than listening to her eat chocolate. Severus swallowed hard and began to count, willing his blood pressure to even out.

_I am not seventeen, damn it… I will not be betrayed by my own body…_ Severus growled to himself.

“That feels amazing. Please don’t stop.” Hermione breathed, and he watched as her fingers flexed over the arms of the chair.

He was captivated by her, and it was more intense than it had been previously. He bit his own lip, continuing to rub her temples as she melted under his touch. His throat felt tight, and unfortunately, it wasn’t the only thing tight. 

He felt uncomfortable, as this was not the kind of moment he thought he should be reacting like this. This was benign; this was something meant for comfort. He wasn’t sure where the wires got crossed.

“Is your headache gone?” He managed to choke out, and she hummed, trying to nod, but not at the same time.

“Yes, what was that?” Hermione asked him, looking up at him with those enchanting eyes.

He needed to make a hasty exit and quickly before Hermione realized how his traitorous body was reacting.

“Something I have created for my associate. However, I realized that I left an important step of something out, and I need to attend to it.” Severus said, sidestepping and drawing his teaching robe over himself. 

“Oh, okay, well, thank. If you are up to it, come back after you are done, I’d like the company.” Hermione shrugged, putting her glasses back on.

“I shall,” Severus said with a nod, marching out of the room as quickly as possible.

While Severus was appreciative that his body reacted positively to her, he did not appreciate the timing or place, as he now had to rush through the castle to his rooms. 

It was so uncommon for him to have this sort of reaction to anything. Since his recovery, Severus had not had much of a sexual response to anything. He assumed that the damage from the venom and years of nerve pain had damaged something.

What a way to realize that was not the case. He needed a shower as cold as the lowest level of hell.

* * *

For the next two weeks, Severus was likely the cleanest being in the castle. He had no idea why his body had decided that this was the time to remind him that he was a man, and he was the unfortunate victim of it’s rallying call.

All the while, he was spending every moment he could with Hermione. He read over witness statements she collected and helped her to tackle the mountain of mail from Romilda’s article. 

Severus enjoyed reading the not so pleasant ones, as he would remark on if he’d had them as a student, or grade their letter as if it were an essay. 

It would make her laugh.

And Severus would have crawled belly first over shattered glass if it made her laugh. It had become his favorite sound, next to the obscene noises she made when she had chocolate or a headache. She had them frequently, and Severus was more than willing to help her ease that pain.

Hermione made him laugh too, which he liked. She shared a sense of humor with him, and they very quickly fell back into the pattern of conversation that they’d had years before. 

He could read a quirk of her lip, or a wrinkled nose and know what she was thinking. Severus was not excused from it either, as she had aptly been able to determine his thoughts without him saying a word.

Severus felt almost as if it were a secret language that he could only speak with her, and suddenly he was no longer mute. 

He felt such contentment in his very being that he was even more helpful to his students, and they remarked on it. While all notions that they were dating were quickly corrected by him, as there had never been such a conversation between him and Hermione, it definitely felt like it.

* * *

“I can’t believe this,” Hermione exclaimed, coming into his office without knocking. It wasn’t uncommon, but he still ended up making a line across the essay he was grading. He put his quill down, folding his hands on his desk as he looked at her, expecting her to provide him with more information.

“My lawyer just wrote to me. They aren’t going to allow Harry to testify. They say that he is to embroiled in the situation and that his position as Auror and my best friend puts him in a conflict of interest!”

Severus was surprised because Harry was doing his best to be objective about the whole matter. “I see. Does that exclude Mrs. Potter from testifying.”

“No, but Harry was the only other person that tower,” Hermione growled, stomping her foot. It was something he noticed that she did when she was frustrated. He found it endearing.

She looked at him, and he knew what she was about to say. She’d not asked him again to come to the hearing, but with Potter not allowed, he was the only witness to what had happened.

“Hermione- do not ask it.” He warned, trying to keep her from making him repeat no.

“I won’t, but I’m stressed and I’m scared that they will do everything they can to make sure that I don’t get divorced.” Hermione began pacing, holding the letter in her hand. 

She was visibly stressed out as she went back and forth in front of his desk.

“Why would they do that?” Severus tried to appeal to her logical side, as he could see that the emotional side was in full control.

“It sets a precedent, Severus. If I get this, then their workload is going to go up at least fourfold. And you know how dodgy they are at the Ministry about anything that causes waves. Even with the Minister calling for fairness in this trial and to let it do away with old prejudices, they are chipping away at my evidence.” Hermione exclaimed at him as if he had missed the whole meaning of this conversation.

He had no desire for her to turn that ire on him, so Severus nodded at her.

“Oh, what else has been denied.” He probed.

Her face dropped, and her arms moved around herself. Based on the book on body language and what Severus could remember of it at this time, she tried to protect herself from a perceived attack. He made sure to sit back in his chair, his shoulders back, not look threatening or make her feel like he wasn’t on her side.

It took her several minutes of standing there before she mustered the whisper. “My account of what happened to my son. Since I never went to St. Mungos and have no documentation of being pregnant at all, they say I have no proof.”

He was outraged. “Merlin’s beard, are you serious? That’s absurd.”

Hermione had the silver of tears in her eyes as she nodded at him. She was trying to keep control of her emotions. He wanted to slap whatever idiot had thought that this woman was lying about losing a child.

“I know, but they are right, I have no documentation. In a court of law, my son never existed.” The way she said it made his chest ache for her.

He opened his arms to her. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, she crawled into his lap. She took off her glasses, setting them on his desk and buried her face into his neck. Severus wrapped his arms around her, his fingers rubbing along her spine. He was pleased that she wasn’t skin and bones any longer.

“Shush, you are doing your best.” Severus offered, hearing her softly crying into his shoulder.

“I’m trying so hard to be so strong for this. If I had just gone to a healer or hadn’t asked Ron to hide it so that the papers wouldn’t hear about it, I would have proof.” Hermione tried to bargain with herself.

Severus sighed. He wondered when she was going to progress to this stage. It seemed that the trial had taken all the anger out of her. She raged against it to the point on an evening that he was sure she was going to give herself a heart attack.

“You couldn’t have known then, Hermione.” Severus offered, trying to get her to listen to reason. He knew it was a lost cause, but if he didn’t work on this with her, then he’d just be stuck listening to her be upset.

She pressed her face into his neck. “But I should have. If I had just documented more, I wouldn’t be so worried.”

  
It wasn’t a comfortable sensation, but fortunately, she did not press for long. Severus's neck was still sensitive to pressure and the cold.

Severus continued to run his hand over her back, trying to soothe her. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

She drew back from him, looking him in the eyes. Hers started to get red from crying, but there were no tears there now as she spoke. “Severus, Molly is the one who is gathering all the evidence for Ron. Ginny told me that she went to all the siblings to get them to go to court and say that I was unreasonable as a wife and never treated Ron as I should have.”

 _Of course, she did…_ Severus wanted to roll his eyes and hex the woman at the same time.

“And, what came of that.”

Hermione adjusted on his lap, sitting over across his knees. “Apparently, Harry and Ginny aren’t welcome at the Burrow until they can decide who their real family is, and George told his mom to sod off.”

“Ah, and her house of cards falls.” Severus had to laugh at that, as he could imagine George Weasley telling his mother off.

“Yes, but she is still going to try to discredit me.” Hermione was desperate for him to agree that Molly was somehow going to best her. 

Severus was not going to give in, he was going to let her know that she could do this.

“Hermione, don’t let her frighten you.”

“It’s not her I’m frightened of.”

Hermione nervously bit her lip, looking at her hands. “Who are you frightened of.”

She looked at him and then back at her hands, taking in a stabilizing breath.

“They are letting Ron out for the hearing. And they are letting Maria testify.”

  
He could not believe what he was hearing. _How on earth had Molly managed that?…_ “Merlin, Circe, and Morrigan, why?”

Hermione’s shoulders dropped, and she leaned her head back against his shoulder, almost collapsing into him. “Because he has a right to be at his own divorce hearing.”

“Idiots.” He cursed, wrapping an arm around her protectively. 

He did not like the idea that Ron would be out of Azkaban, even for a moment. The man would take any chance to hurt her.

“And right now they are poised to say he never tried to kill me. Which then means his criminal trial gets dismissed. And then he walks free. And I wait for him to try again.”

 _Like hell…_ Severus thought, his whole body stiffening at the notion that she was afraid that Mr. Weasley was going to touch her.

He grabbed her chin in his hands, making her look at him. 

“Hermione, as long as I am alive, he will never set another hand on you. I will kill him with my bare hands.” Severus swore to her with all the power he had in him.

  
Her weak smile was enough for now.

“You tried that once already, Viktor said you were a man possessed.” 

Severus nodded at the statement. “I would have succeeded had not Mr. Krum pulled me off.”

“I heard that too.” Hermione quipped, her face going back to the crook of his shoulder and his neck.

  
They sat there quietly, him running his hand up and down her arm lazily. Her hot breath made it was through the wool, causing gooseflesh along his skin. He could still feel that she was tense against him.

“What can I do to ease your mind?” Severus asked, wanting to make her feel better about the entire situation.

She chuckled sarcastically. “Come to the hearing?”

He had that coming. “Aside from that.”

“Sit here and let me listen to you breathe?” She draped her arm around his shoulder, relaxing a bit more against him.

Severus leaned back in his chair, flicking his wand to stabilize it as he had no desire to go ass over tea kettle. “An odd request, but I can do that.”

Severus closed his eyes, breathing deeply and evenly. He held her to him, letting the feeling of her warmth melt into him. She smelt like sage and ginger and cardamom. She could feel her rubbing his shoulder idly, and he relaxed into it.

  
“What am I going to do if they don’t grant me this divorce.” She broke the silence, worry in her voice.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “They will.”

“But if they don’t Severus, then I am tied to Ron forever.” He could hear that she was afraid of that outcome.

“Hermione, you have to set your mind that you will get it.”

She shook her head against his shoulder. “I have to plan for the worst.”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with me.” He teased her, poking her side gently.

“Severus, I don’t think there is such a thing. I am making up for six years.” He felt her inhale deeply from his neck, bringing cold air against his skin.

“Is that what this is? Here I thought you just liked the smell of my aftershave.”

“That too.” She said, lifting up to smile at him.

  
He looked at his desk and sighed, as pleasing as this was, there was much work to do. He had two classes of essays to grade, and he’d have another set on the next day turned in.

“If you are going to sit here, you are going to watch me grade essays.” He said, adjusting to hold her back as he leaned forward, picking up his quill.

  
“Want help?” Hermione asked him, her mouth nearly on his ear. 

He had to swallow and close his eyes, counting backward from ten mentally.

“If it pleases you.” He offered, letting her loose so that she could sit on his lap facing the desk. Hermione adjusted herself, put on her glasses, and looked at the parchment. He watched as she plucked another quill from his desk drawer, looking at him eagerly.

Severus didn’t think he’d seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

“Severus, what is the topic.”

He was staring at her and had to bring himself back to the conversation quickly. “How to apply a hex to an object to later be activated.”

“Easy.” Hermione offered with a shrug, moving his red ink to the middle of the desk.

It seemed he didn’t have a say on if she was grading on his lap or not, and they were obviously sharing the ink. He didn’t want to challenge her on it, because he enjoyed having her in his space.

“For you. Someone here just wrote ‘say the words at it, and it sticks.’” Severus offered, shuffling through the essays to find one he would allow her to grade.

“Ah… Someone didn’t read their textbook.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Not everyone had the textbook memorized Hermione.”

“I don’t have it memorized… anymore.” She pouted at him.

  
He handed her one of the neater essays; he didn’t want to give her undue eyestrain. “Here, you can have Dobrovik’s, he’s got decent penmanship.”

  
They sat there, grading his essays together and laughing at the mistakes that the students had made. He’d made his chair into a bench when she’d made his leg go numb. Severus enjoyed how she would pause, lean her head on his shoulder, or touch his arm when she wanted to confirm with him if the student had worded the essay well enough to be correct.

Severus would make sure that she only got the neater writer’s work. It took him half the time to do the job, but he was twice as distracted.

But he didn’t want to grade papers any other way from now on.

Severus was getting to the point where those feelings that he had for her were warping into something more substantial. He was doing his best to not make it evident to her because she needed to heal for her first, but he knew in his mind and in his heart one thing.

He was hopelessly in love with Hermione Granger.


	30. It was Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

Time flew by too quickly for Hermione.

One second it was the beginning of the year; the next, it was the first of February. 

She had spent every waking moment fixating on the hearing. Or being with Severus. Often, it was both at the same time. Since their fight and subsequent discussion, they had fallen into a steady pattern of companionship.

Severus would be there in the morning waiting for her to leave her rooms to walk her to Breakfast. They’d pick up whatever they’d been discussing the night. Viktor would join the conversation once they’d entered the high table. 

During classes, she would catch of glance at him looking into her class when they went from period to period. She pretended not to notice. Hermione knew that he was trying to ensure that she doing okay, and it was sweet. She was afraid that if he knew that she saw him, that he would stop.

During the planning period, unless there was a staff meeting, they were together in his office, grading papers, talking, and enjoying each other's company.

At dinner, they would still be talking, and he would walk her to her rooms afterward, where, if neither were out patrolling, they would sit by the fire.

Severus did not surprise her at all in the variety of things he could talk about. If she veered off into something, he was never more than a step behind, if not a level of ahead of her. Hermione felt like he actually heard her and saw her, and it was unlike what she remembered, trying to talk to Ron.

If it came to conversations, Ron was a toddler, and Hermione was getting for the first time in a long time, to talk to an adult.

Hermione was still nervous when it came to fully trust that this was not going to be gone at a moment's notice, but she had resolved herself to enjoy his company while she had it. Severus seemed to be conducting himself under the same notion, or she assumed that at least.

That didn’t mean that everything was idyllic for her. Severus was the comforting constant against the backdrop of an impending tidal wave. Every step she took, she was going backward three more. Molly Weasley had taken up the defense of her son and had hired a family friend to represent him. They were going through every shred of her evidence, looking for reasons to get it dismissed.

The discovery session had been more like a massacre as they threw out Harry’s testimony, her testimony about her son, any offered Pensieve memories, and her list of injuries. The latter had been because she’d not been to a healer for any of the abuse. Hermione was a capable witch who knew advanced healing from her time in the war, and she’d not want to feel the shame. The only injuries they would accept were those that Poppy had submitted to the courts that she’d seen since Hermione had been on staff.

Hermione was scrambling to piece together evidence from what was left. Severus still refused to help her, and while she understood, she was not happy with it. They told her that without any evidence of a child ever-existing, they would not allow any testimony about it.

She knew that Molly was behind it, Molly couldn’t stand that Hermione dared to try to drag the Weasley name through the mud. She’d tried turning the whole family against her. 

Bill and Fleur had respectfully asked to be left out of it, with Fleur not wishing Molly’s wrath turned in her direction.   
George had told his mother to sod off because she couldn’t see Ron's problem with the drink.  
Ginny and Harry had told Molly that she was in the wrong and had been disowned until they came to their senses.  
Percy took his mother’s side, saying there was no way that Ron had been so abusive for so long, and no one noticed.  
Charlie had offered Hermione to feed his brother to a particularly nasty horn-tail that already had a body count.

The only one who had been silent this whole time was Arthur Weasley. Hermione hadn’t heard so much as a peep from or about the man. It saddened her, but she understood that he was the one that Molly both enabled and controlled the most.

Hermione was anxious. She’d kept rubbing her face and shaking her hands as she paced her rooms.

The prehearing was tomorrow, and Hermione knew it would be the first time she saw Ron since that night. She didn’t think that she could do it. 

Hermione didn't feel like she had the strength to face Ron, even with all the preparation she'd been putting herself through. Although Harry had promised he'd be right there in the room, she didn't feel like she’d be safe. She continued going over her exit plan, what she would do if he managed to get away from the Aurors that were supposed to guard him.

Severus had assured her that her portkey should still work, and he’d not taken it off her wrist. He’d removed the anti-apparation jinx, however, in case she needed to get back to Hogwarts another way.

He’d already left for the night, yawning as he bid her farewell.

Hermione finally coaxed herself into bed with her evening tea, but she did not sleep well. Her dreams were filled with all the possibilities of what could go wrong.

* * *

She’d barely slept. Her eyes ached and were sore from the lack of it, but she could not bear another minute lying in bed, waiting for the world to crash down on her. She felt the tidal wave, she knew the surf had been drawn from the shore. She was a lone boat in the port, and she was doing everything to not drown when it hit.

Finally, she’d made herself get ready, checking her outfit again and again before leaving the room.

“Thou need not luck, my charge, but still Nike kisses thy brow. May the winds of Zephyrus guide thy feet, and may Persephone shelter thee from the darkness thy faces. No sword nor spear can pierce thee, no arrow will find its home in thine breast. Thee walks with the huntress, and she will shield thine. Even Hera herself, cannot deny thee thy price of vengeance, for she too is a lover scorned, a mother and wife neglected.” The Medusa offered, bowing to her. 

The battle was in full rage in the fresco, Medusa stunning the men with her sight and shattering stone men to bits with her fists. Even thorough this, The Medusa stopped to cheer her onward.

“Thank you. The same to you in this battle.” Hermione offered, smiling weakly at her room guardian. The Medusa was more a friend to her than she thought she could be with a painting. It seemed she could sense Hermione’s anguish and sent her with a blessing befitting a Greek hero.

Hermione went to the main hall and paced. She quietly recited to herself what she needed to say, no sound leaving her, but her lips moving with the words. Her nerves were already shot, and the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

  
“You are going to wear yourself out before you leave.”

Hermione jumped at the abrupt sound but smiled as Minerva walked up. Minerva looked older, there were more lines on her face, and her whole body moved as if she carried a great weight of worry. Hermione knew that it was because she was as worried about Hermione as Hermione was.

“I can’t stay still.” Hermione offered, shaking her hands to get the nerves from her.

“While that may be the case, I would suggest you try.” Minerva offered, tilting her head slightly.

Hermione frowned and stopped, beseeching Minerva with her eyes for some kind of guidance. “What if this fails.”

“You and I know, Hermione, that you will not rest until it is righted.”

Minerva was right, but that didn’t mean that Hermione wanted to hear it right now. She didn’t have kind of unfaltering faith in herself.

They stood in silence for a few moments, Hermione trying to shake the jitters out of her system. All of her felt like she was tingling, and like she would never be still again.

Severus was late. He’d said he meet her here and see her off. Hermione felt a part of her heart drop because she desperately wanted to beg him to come with her, but she knew he would not. His fear was too great on both parts, and she could not fault him for it. It was her battle, her war that she had to fight, and while she would have loved to have him as a wizard at her side, he knew the price of battle too well.

That didn’t excuse him for being late to see her off, however.

“Where is he?” She grossed aloud, stomping her foot impatiently.

Minerva did not even need to ask who she was talking about. “Hermione, he is likely still sleeping, it is nearly four in the morning.”

Hermione rubbed her eye and then adjusted her glasses. She was a prat, and she knew it, but she just wanted this over and for him to be there.

“I know, I know- He told me he would see me off.”

Minerva put a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps he didn’t expect that you would be already at the door.”

“You’re right, Minerva.” Hermione put her head down, looking at her hands and sighing.

It was the nerves. Hermione was so nervous that she felt like her insides wanted to be on the outside.

Minerva stood in front of her, grabbing her shoulders and fixing her with the look that meant business. Her eyes were firm, and her lips were straight. Hermione prepared for a lecture on her behavior.

“Listen to me. You are the bravest and brightest young woman I have ever had the pleasure to know. It will go smoothly. You will do wonderfully.” Minerva encouraged, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

Hermione wanted to cry at that moment. “I’m so nervous.”

Minerva nodded, her eyes full of understanding and compassion. “I know. And I wish I could go with you. I sent in all my statements, and if they need me as a witness, you know I will stand right behind you the whole ordeal.”

Hermione felt better, knowing that Minerva would be there if she needed her to be. “Thank you, Minerva.”

Minerva was not done, as she kept her piercing gaze on Hermione. Whatever she was going to say, it was necessary. “Do not let him get into your head, Hermione. Don’t even look at him. If he speaks to you, give your answer to your lawyer or to the judge.”

“I will.” Hermione breathed, feeling tears starting to well up in her chest. 

It touched her so profoundly that Minerva believed in her so much. Even when Hermione didn’t believe in herself. It was like having her mother there, telling her that she was going to take on the world.

“Don’t let them try to intimidate you. You know who you are. If they are trying to bring you down, it is because they are afraid of you, not because you are weak. You are Hermione Granger, and don’t let them make you forget that.” Minerva demanded, her voice steady, and Hermione drew on that strength.

  
“Minerva, thank you.” She began to cry, unable to stop it as the feelings of acceptance and support washed over her. “I wish my mum were here, but I’m so glad I have you.”

Minerva engulfed her in a hug, rubbing her back and rocking her side to side. Hermione fell apart and held her back. The anxiety seemed to abate as Minerva shushed her and ran her hand over her back.

“I’m not her, but I know that she would be so very proud of you, Hermione. Just as proud of you as I am.” Minerva whispered into her hair. 

Hermione stayed there, neither woman saying anything. Hermione gathered herself and drew back, smiling at the older woman with gratitude.

“Thank you for everything.”

“I did nothing but give you a place to land. You have done everything else.” Minerva explained away her part in making sure that Hermione survived and could even get to this point.

A voice cleared. “Ahem.”

Hermione turned to see Severus standing there, his hands clasped behind his back, obviously trying to not invade the moment.

She could not help but smile, taking the five steps to him. “You’re here.”

He looked damp up close, and she assumed he had just showered, as he smelt strongly like the woodsy soap that he used. She could never put her finger on what it was exactly, but it had cedar and oud wood and something that smelt like the earth after a summer rain.

“Ah- yes. I apologize for my delay, it took me longer than I had planned to prepare for the day.” Severus offered apologetically.

Hermione hugged him them, not caring if Minerva saw. She knew that the woman had known that they were friendly with each other. “That’s fine. I’m just happy you made it before I had to leave.”

Severus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. She could smell the spearmint on his breath, and it blended with everything else to make a smell that was uniquely him that she thought she could determine it was him blindfolded.

“Have you your statements that we went over last night?” He whispered to her.

She nodded against him. “Yes, in my bag.”

“Your timeline of events?”

“Yes.”

  
A long pause of silence prevailed, and he rubbed over her back, having still not released her.

  
Minerva cleared her throat this time. “I will leave you two, I have to ensure that Longbottom and Flitwick are ready for your course load.”

“Thank you, headmistress.” Severus intoned, before pressing his face into Hermione’s hair.

  
“Did you make sure to have your witness cross-examination questions?” Severus prodded.

Hermione laughed at him, leaning back to look up at him. “I did, I have it all.”

“I am just trying to ensure that you do not go unprepared.”

  
“Are you sure you will not go with me?” Hermione asked him, trying one last time to get him to be at her side. She knew it was a lost cause, but she could not help herself but ask him.

The pain was apparent on his face as he shook his head. “Hermione, I cannot. It grieves me to send you alone, but I have told you at length as to why I cannot be there.”

She sighed, pressing her head into his shoulder and trying to ease the tension that had climbed up her spine. Hermione held on to him, not afraid that someone would see them, as it was so early in the morning. And she’d likely hex anyone who said anything about it.

  
“Hermione, what can I do to ease you at this moment,” Severus asked her. She could feel his lips move against her scalp, his breath washing over her.

She leaned back, grabbing hold of his biceps. Hermione looked into his eyes, praying that she was not going to be regret this moment.

“Promise me something,” Hermione whispered so that only he could hear her.

Severus inhaled quickly and held her gaze as he whispered back to her. “What do you wish of me?”

In Hogwarts' quiet and sleepy halls, it felt like they were the only two people in the world at that moment. Hermione felt tightness in her chest as she found the words.

“That no matter what happens, when I come back, you will still be here, like this. That when I come back, you will be this Severus and not the monster you can be.” Hermione asked of him, knowing that if she knew he would be here, like this and not his cruel side, she could make it through the day. She would have a reason to not give up on herself, even if it was for him.

He smiled, and she felt a wash of warmth flood from her neck down the rest of her body.

“I promise that I will be awaiting your return with open arms.” Severus breathed.

They were sharing air, and there was something so profoundly close about this moment. Hermione had never felt this close to anyone before in her life. It wasn’t the actual proximity, it was something else, something unseen, but she could sense it.

“That is enough for me.”

She slid both her hands up to cup the sides of his face and stood on her tiptoes. He seemed to realize what she was doing just as she pressed her lips to his. One of his hands came up to the back of her head, the other holding her to him.

It was tender and carried the weight of a million unsaid words. Hermione kissed him like he was the reason she was alive, and she felt like he returned that fervor through his lips. Her eyes were closed as she kissed him, taking in the whole sensation through touch alone. His lips were gentle if a bit chapped, but he firmly returned the kiss.

After a moment, she broke it, knowing that she would be late and that if Hermione stayed, she’d spend the rest of her life in that position. She was panting like she’d run a million miles, but it was from something else. Her whole body pulsed with a warmth that settled in her stomach.

It felt like something she hadn’t ever felt before like she was full of light and just as dense as air.

  
“Hermione.” Severus breathed, and she was sure she’d never heard him say her name in that tone of voice.

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything, you will ruin it. I’ll be back.”

And before she could change her mind and press her lips to his again, she walked out of the school, toward what she felt was her doom. But it would be okay, because he was going to be waiting for her, and that was enough.


	31. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Severus had been suffering from his own nighttime problems. 

Nightmares had returned. 

The closer the date to of her divorce hearing, the more they seemed to plague him. He would watch as her body fell over the edge of the tower. Sometimes it was him throwing her over; sometimes it was Weasley, and sometimes, in a weird mingling of pain, it was the Dark Lord. Sometimes he didn’t drop her, instead of killing her with an unforgivable. 

Severus had spent hours trying to meditate and calm himself before bed, attempting to direct the pattern of his dreams. Yet, no matter where they started, they ended up in that tower. His own anxiety over the situation was multifaceted.

He did not want to relive the fear of his own trial after the first wizarding war. 

Severus could not also be sure that he would not attack Ronald or Molly on sight.

And he knew that they would find a way to discredit her with him. That he would be used to sully Hermione and slander her, and he could not bear the weight of that.

When he woke at midnight, drenched in sweat, her scream of terror rattling in his brain, he knew he had to do something. He got up, spelling his sheets dry again clean and summoned his house-elf to fetch him the concoctions that he’d made for George.

He’d never had the Nightmare Nougat himself, as his dreams were mostly tamed now that every waking second wasn’t tinted with the Dark Lord or Dumbledore’s influence. But he was in a place where he was in the perfect state to try it.

Severus took the treat with a glass of water, setting a charm to wake him when it was time to see her off. He knew he would be no good to her if he was bedraggled and sleep-deprived. And from what George had told him, the new formula did not have the previous side effect.

Sinking into his sheets, he closed his eyes, hoping for enough sleep to make through the day. He began to count backward from a thousand, slowly exhaling with each number, until he drifted off.

  
_Hands over his skin, fingers tracing every mark on him like they were mapping his body. His lips found purchase on her neck as she touched him. He worshiped her like she was his new religion, with fever and dedication, leaving no part of her untouched, whispering prayers for his salvation into hot skin. The sounds she made flooded his senses, leaving him unable to think of anything but the smell and taste of her._

_Brown curls covered his face as she took control of him, seeking what she wanted and what tribute was owed to her. He was a petitioner at the alter of her divinity and gave her every inch of him. Groans like prayers left him as he submitted to her fire, letting her consume him._

_Everything was nothing, as the world burned to ashes under her pleasure. Severus felt himself meet the peak of his desire, and she cried out against the silence like an archangel calling the heavens._

  
Severus woke up to his hips jerking as the alarm went off to wake him.

He was panting, his bed a mess, and he felt wrung out. He closed his eyes, still feeling the high of the dream he had just been ripped from. He could still feel her phantom hands on his skin, and he lingered in the sensation for as long as it lasted.

When the last ghost of the dream left him, he forced himself up to sit on his bed as he rubbed his forehead.

He was shaken at the intensity.

George Weasley was either a liar, or his mind was too embroiled with desire for Hermione that it needed very little in the way of help.

Regardless, he needed a shower, new sheets, and to the main hall where she would be waiting for him. His knees were weak from his nightfall, and he had to push himself to make to the lavatory. He couldn’t stop thinking about the dream either, his shower taking much longer than anticipated because of the need that took hold of him.

By the time he was finally acceptable to be seen, he was nearly a half-hour late. Severus hoped that his absence had been noticed, or in the very least that it would be forgiven.

Making haste to the upper levels, he felt the fear for her rise in him again. Severus did not like that he was sending her to a den of wolves alone. He had to remind himself that she was not a sheep, but a lioness and that she could do it. He knew that without him, she could still achieve her goal.

He came upon Hermione being held by Minerva. It was a moment between then that he had no desire to interrupt as Minerva seemed to be comforting her. Hermione needed all the comfort the world would allow her.

Severus waited until the right time came, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

  
Hermione turned from Minerva, looking at him. Her grin lit up her face, and she crossed the room to him. “You’re here.”

Severus caught the Headmistress’s gaze, a smile quirking across her lips. Her face was knowing, and he turned for her, looking at Hermione.

He began to offer his apologies. “Ah- yes. I apologize for my delay, it took me longer than I had planned to prepare for the day.” 

Her arms wrapped around him, and he felt a flush surge up his neck. Wisps of his dream ran through the back of his mind, but he willed them away, focusing on the here and the now.

Her voice held no anger.“That’s fine. I’m just happy you made it before I had to leave.”

Severus encircled in his arms, bringing her to his chest so that he could feel her against him.

Minerva smiled at them again, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, and he tried to look suitably abashed for the public display of affection. Severus could not say that he was embarrassed, but he felt exposed in the open with her in his arms. The fact that Hermione showed no such reservation was pleasing to him.

Hermione inhaled deeply, and he felt like she was sniffing him. Especially the way she seemed to exhale and smile. This peaceful moment would be too short, he knew, and he wanted to make sure that she was ready for the world outside.

“Have you your statements that we went over last night?” He asked her quietly, the words for her ears alone.

He felt the edge of her glasses as she nodded against him. “Yes, in my bag.”

“Your timeline of events?” He pressed.

“Yes.”

  
Severus looked up as Minerva cleared her throat. Her face was in a full grin at this point, like the cat who had gotten the canary. He felt his face flush because he knew that she was over the moon. After all, they were this close, and he had sinking suspicious this pleased her. As much as she wasn’t a meddler, that did not mean she was interested in how things unfolded. He’d suspected that she’d been on the sidelines cheering this situation all month.

“I will leave you two, I have to ensure that Longbottom and Flitwick are ready for your course load.” Her tone belied that she wanted to offer them some privacy and that she had no intention of checking with either professor.

“Thank you, headmistress.” Severus offered, appreciative of what she was giving them.

He tucked his nose into Hermione’s hair, taking in the scent that so uniquely her. It was spice and warmth and fullness. Whatever she washed with, it was not flowery or overly feminine, but on her, it was the most feminine smell he ever encountered.

He could not be distracted, not when his mission was to make sure she left here knowing she was a capable and powerful witch who could shake the world to its knees.

“Did you make sure to have your witness cross-examination questions?” 

  
Her laughter filled him and surrounded him, and he smiled at her. 

“I did, I have it all.”

“I am just trying to ensure that you do not go unprepared.” Severus defended, running his hands over her long-sleeved dress robe.

  
“Are you sure you will not go with me?” She looked up at him with such hope. 

He knew he could not. No matter what he wanted, what was best for her was what he was going to do. It pained him to tell her, no, to know that she wanted him there by her side, but the circumstances around them prevented it.

“Hermione, I cannot. It grieves me to send you alone, but I have told you at length as to why I cannot be there.”

He watched as she deflated, pressing into him. He held her like he had no desire to let her go. Her grip was just as tight, and he tucked his head into her hair once more. Severus would have given anything to comfort her, to make this go as quickly and rightly as it should for her.

“Hermione, what can I do to ease you at this moment,” Severus murmured against her.

She pulled away from him, her hands moving to his arms. He wondered for a moment if he had said the wrong thing, but there was something in her eyes. It was desperation and fear, and just a touch of hope. It reached into his very soul, pulling it to his throat. 

“Promise me something,” Her lips breathed the words, and he felt him wrap around his spine like she was pulling him into her with her words and gaze. 

The sensation began to awaken his unsatiated desire for her, and he inhaled sharply, trying to take control of the notion.

“What do you wish of me?” The words fell from him like a rumble of desire and love blended into one.

Everything focused on that moment. There was no sound except the fretful tapping of his heart and her breath on his skin. He would have given her the world if she asked him at this moment. He was so entranced with her that he could not steal his gaze from her. In part because he felt like she would disappear if he blinked and in part because something felt so right.

“That no matter what happens, when I come back, you will still be here, like this. That when I come back, you will be this Severus and not the monster you can be.”

Her request crawled through his ears into his heart, and he felt like it was rattling against his ribcage, trying to get out and to her.

The power of it made him smile softly at her. If that is what she wanted from him, he will give it fully and freely without expectation.

“I promise that I will be awaiting your return with open arms.” He swore, and he meant it. Severus would wait for her to come back if it took her an hour or a million years. He didn’t think he could do anything else at this point, with the depth and intensity of his love for her.

He felt something stir within him as the room seemed to be electric with her energy. He felt encompassed her scent, her warmth, and her presence.

“That is enough for me.” She accepted his promise in a breathy murmur. 

He smiled at her, pulling her into him for a long embrace. He desired closeness, to feel her safely at his side, and happily against him.

She stretched up to him, her hands bring his face down to her. There was confusion for a moment, and then he realized that she was about to kiss him.

Severus kissed her back with abandon, lifting her, supporting her as he poured every ounce of what he felt for her into the kiss. His hand found the back of her head, and he cradled her, she was the most precious thing in the world to him. The heat and warmth coiled tighter in him, but he did not care, all he cared about was kissing her, and being kissed back. 

Severus had kissed before, but it was never this. It was always some perfunctory add on to the sating of some sexual frustration. This was every word of his soul spilling into and an echo coming back, delivering hers to him. He did not know how long the moment went, he didn’t care as he surrendered to the moment, to being there with her.

When she drew back, her face flush, eyes wide, he felt the loss. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her again and again.

“Hermione.” Severus was entranced, and he had to say her name, he needed to make it real and not the torrid fantasy of a confectionery treat.

Her finger pressed against his lips, where her lips had just been as she silenced him. “Don’t say anything, you will ruin it. I’ll be back.”

He could say nothing more as she turned and left him standing there in the great hall. Severus was stunned and dumbfounded. He felt warmth and contentment, and like a piece of a very intricate puzzle had just fallen into place. It was unknown to him, but it felt so right that he could not argue against its existence.

Hermione had just kissed him and left him breathless and eager for more of them.

He stood there for several seconds, realigning himself with the planet's orientation as he’d somehow been launched out of orbit.

* * *

  
By the time six pm came, Severus was pacing the halls. Her pre-trial hearing was the first one of the morning. The courts closed at five pm.

_So, where was she?..._

He’d gotten no response from Potter nor anyone else who had been summoned to the hearing.

He was concerned, but he knew that one of those present would have the presence of mind to inform him if she’d come to any danger.

So he waited, and he waited.

Severus waited until nearly seven pm when she staggered into the castle, Mrs. Potter holding her arm, her eyes red and puffy behind black frames. He’d heard the door and urged himself to it, seeing that she was not alone.

He studied her for a moment before she noticed him. 

Hermione leaned heavily on Ginny, but there was no mark on her, nor were her clothes askew. She looked exhausted, her shoulders bowed, and her footsteps clumsy. 

Severus’s frustration for her tardiness vanished. He moved forward, meeting Ginerva’s eyes. Her eyes were solemn and sad and had a similar red ring from crying.

Holding his distance, not knowing if his touch would further cause her discomfort, even though he wanted to scoop her up into his arms.

“How can I help? What happened?” He asked Mrs. Potter, seeking answers or at least understanding.

Ginerva Potter looked at Hermione and then back to him, her mouth agape as she tried to find words, finally falling into a frown. “It was a hard day. She was at my house for a while, I tried to calm her. It did not go well. They-”

  
Hermione shook her head and stood up straighter, touching her friend’s shoulder.

“I’ll tell him when we get someplace private.” Hermione breathed out, her voice hoarse. 

Ginny nodded at her and let her go, looking to Severus sympathetically.

He wanted to know what had transpired to bring his bright witch back like this. 

_His witch?… Had he dared make such a claim…_ Severus thought, but passed it away as Hermione grabbed his forearm, getting his attention.

“Can we take dinner in my rooms, or somewhere private. I have a lot to tell you.” She asked him, her brown eyes so subdued that he could not speak. 

He nodded to her, offering her his arm and she took it.

Ginny rubbed her forehead, placing a hand on Hermione’s arm. “I’m going to get back to Harry and the kids. Remember what I said, Hermione.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be okay. I have to be; I have to be there tomorrow.” Hermione said weakly, her eyes down-turned.

“I will be there too.” The woman offered, and he watched the exchange, seeing how Hermione gave her a soft smile.

“Thank you, Ginny, for everything.”

The redhead shrugged, heading for the door. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t stand with you now.”

“I won’t be your sister in law much longer if I have anything to do with it.” He saw the way Hermione stiffened, how she seemed to rise up from the ashes to express some anger.

Mrs. Potter laughed and shook her head. “Bullshit. You are Harry’s sister. Which means you will forever be my sister, in law or otherwise.”

“Thank you. Get home before James and Lily drown him in the tub.” Hermione offered the smallest tint of amusement in her voice.

“Tomorrow,” Ginny said, her eyes serious. Severus could feel there was something unspoken going on between the women.

Hermione nodded, sighing sadly. “Tomorrow.”

  
Ginerva left out the front door, and Severus looked at Hermione, making no attempt to conceal the concern on his face. 

She looked up at him and was so unhappy that he wanted to murder whoever put the look on her face.

  
He thought for a moment, thinking over options. Hermione's rooms were on the third floor while his were in the dungeons. It was closer by no comparison.

“Would you like to come to my rooms, they are closer?” He spoke softly, waiting for her to answer.

Hermione looked at him with curiosity and disbelief. “I- do you want me in them?”

“I would not offer if I did not want you there.” He bowed his head to her, giving her hand on his arm a squeeze.

“Alright.”

  
Severus led her quietly, glaring at any student who passed and thought to say anything. Most of the Slytherins knew better than to cross him when he looked like this. 

He reached his door, a tapestry of a dark sea-goat hiding it. It floated on navy waves; it’s blue and silver colors reflecting on the ocean. Below it, the writhing image of a leviathan lay in wait to drag its unsuspecting victim down. Yet, the sea-goat did not seem phased, almost glaring at the depths in a challenge.

He felt Hermione stop, looking at it, and he waited, giving her the moment to look it over.

Severus placed his wand on the moon that lingered above the waves and spoke his password without much thought.  
  
“Me, poor man, my library was dukedom large enough.”

The tapestry rolled up, and a dark wood door that was reinforced with iron straps appeared.

Severus opened it and let her enter first, closing the door behind them.

“I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“Prospero, Tempest.” Severus offered, igniting the fire in his room.

“Ah,” Hermione said with a nod.

Severus gestured to the sofa in front of the fire as he walked toward his desk. ”I shall send for supper. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you, Severus.” Her voice was small and unsure.

He waved his hand at her. “Think nothing of it.”

After he called the house-elf, requesting meals for both of them, he walked back toward her. She was sitting on the couch, her shoes kicked off and her knees up to her chest. Hermione was watching the fire with a haunted look. He’d not see the expression on her before, but he knew it. Something had happened today that affected her deeply.

“It will be here shortly.” He took a seat on the other end of the sofa, looking at her.

She nodded, her arms around her legs as she watched the firelight flicker.

  
“Hermione.” He whispered, leaning on the sofa's arm, giving her space enough not to feel crowded.

She didn’t look at him, her head on her knees. “Yes, Severus.”

Her hair was spread across her shoulders, like a cape. It was like she was trying to make herself smaller. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened today before we eat.” Severus wasn’t sure if he should push her to speak, but he wanted her to know that he was listening. 

From all his books, she showed signs of being in shock, and he wanted to know what would have caused it.

Her voice was a trembled whisper. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“How about the beginning.” He offered, trying to be helpful.

That made her look at him, a blaze of anger in her brown eyes. “Yes, well, that would be obvious, wouldn’t it.”

“I do not mean to tease.” He held his hands up, palm out to show her that he meant her no harm

Hermione took a big breath, sighing and sinking her shoulders. “I know.”

“I have all night, you do not need to rush on my account,” Severus explained, and he got comfortable, looking at the fire. If she needed his quiet presence more than to speak, that would be good enough for him. Even if he was desperate for answers, he did not want to cause her more pain.

It was quiet between them, the soft crackle of the fire, and the black lake's sound against the windows. His heart ached for every moment of silent suffering that he knew she was going through. She was just within reach, and yet he did not dare seek out her touch, unknowing what it would trigger.

  
She took in a breath and pushed her glasses back.

“We exhumed him.” Hermione finally offered her voice rough and heavy with tears.

He had not been thinking clearly, so he needed clarification. “Who?”

“My son.”

Her words hit him like a stunning spell to the gut. Had the courts been so cruel to make a mother dig up her deceased child. Why on earth had no one summoned him? He would have been there for her for that. He ached for her more.

“Oh. Hermione.” Severus was sympathetic, even though he had no point of reference for the pain.

Her eyes looked distant like she was someplace else altogether as she spoke. “It had to be done. I would not let her win. I did not give up. They said without a body, there was no proof. So Harry and I, we brought them a body.”

He swallowed and restrained his desire to comfort her. “I am so sorry I was not there.”

“It’s okay. Harry was.” She warbled before breaking down into tears. “I’d forgotten how much it hurt. Or it had started to hurt less, and now, it is all fresh.”

He offered her a handkerchief, sliding closer to her, but still respecting the distance he was trying to give her. He’d not read any books on this kind of grief yet, they had not arrived.

“I am here,” Severus told her, affirming that she did not have to suffer alone.

She took the cloth from him, wiping her glasses and then her eyes. She was trembling now, her whole body vibrating in place.

  
“They couldn’t believe that we would go and get him. I had to go back into that house. I never want to go back to that house again.” There was a pain so deep in her voice. Severus wanted to go and burn it to the ground to make her feel better. It wouldn’t help her any, but maybe knowing that she would never have to go there would make her feel better.

“Then don’t.” He offered the only solution he had.

Hermione uncurled from her position and turned to him, supporting her upper body on her hands as she looked miserable.

“Severus, I am not okay. I don’t feel okay.” She was scared, and he could see it. 

He opened his arms to her, and she climbed across the couch into his lap. Her glasses were taken off, thrown to the side without regard to the damage. Her visceral cry into his shoulder had him nearly gasping. It was as if someone was stabbing her, and she was keening from the pain.

“It’s alright. Let it out, I will not judge you.” Severus coaxed, cradling her to him and wrapping his cloak around her. He pressed his lips to her scalp, daring to comfort her as she seemed to want to crawl into his very skin.

Between her sobs, she began to speak, no, howl the injustices that she had suffered on that day. “Molly, she looked at me like I was vile. She- she said that I had killed him to turn this around on Ron. That I never wanted Ron’s son. That I was the abuser, and I was the one who would hit Ron.”

His gut turned, and he had a distinct desire to feed Molly Weasley her words at wand point, and with enough belladonna to kill an elephant.

“She is a vile woman.” Was all he could manage.

Hermione shook in his arms, and he rubbed his hands over her back, trying to soothe her.

“And Ron, he looked like he wasn’t even there like his eyes were glazed over, and he was pale and sickly looking.” Hermione described, and Severus knew the look.

At one time, he had been like that eyes sunken and desperate for relief from the continuing nightmare of that hell on the sea. “From the dementors likely.”

“And they took him from me. They took his body from me.” Her sob was ripped from her.

“Where did they take him, Hermione?” At that moment, Severus was ready to host a raid on the Ministry if they had decided that the body of her son was evidence to be thrown into some crate.

“St. Mungos. They want to conduct a magical paternity test.”

That was acceptable and reasonable.

“Then I am sure he is in good hands.”

“But what if they lose his body, and I cannot bury him again.”

“They will not.” Severus sad as a matter of fact.

She uncurled from his cloak, looking at him. “How do you know.”

He gave her a supportive smile.

Severus would make sure that nothing happened. A former student had taken up a relevant post a few years ago and would have access to these sorts of things. He knew that with a quick owl, he would be assured that it was handled correctly and with little underhanded practices. The young woman would have a soft spot for Hermione’s predicament.  
“Because I have a friend on the third floor in St. Mungos as a supervisor whom I will be sending an owl to shortly. Her husband is an Auror, and they are honorable people.”

She shook her head, pressing her face into his neck.

“Don’t put yourself out there for me.” She breathed against him.

He looked at her, holding her gaze. Severus wanted to convey to her that this was not a matter that he felt he was doing anything he didn’t want to do. She looked so helpless and lost. He wanted to hold her until that feeling was gone again.

“Hermione, if it will ease your mind, I will do it.” He was serious.

  
Hermione forced a breath through her nose before sighing against him. “Severus, I felt so weak.”

“You are not weak. No one can do what you have done and be weak.” 

  
She adjusted on his lap again, and then looked up at him with beseeching eyes.

  
“Please, can I- can we lay down? If it will be comfortable for you, this is not comfortable for me.” She quietly asked, her face as if she feared he would yell at her or turn her away.

He let her go, and she clambered out of his lap. 

“By all means.” He said, but he knew his nervousness was apparent.

He stood, taking off his cloak and putting it over the sofa's back before he settled himself. 

He prayed to Circe and anyone else who listened that his body behaved itself.

Severus laid on the sofa, his head against the armrest and his one foot hanging off the side. Once he was settled, he reached for her hand. Hermione climbed in top of him, laying her head on his shoulder and her body half sinking between him and the back of the soda and half on him. He tucked his arms around her, one hand splayed across her back.

“Is this alright.” She asked him quietly.

Severus had yet to dare to move, fearing that he would drop her or frighten her.

“Yes, you may stay here as long as you need.” He offered, feeling her relax into him.

After a few moments and small adjustments, he was sure that neither of them would be falling from the sofa. He ran his fingers through her hair, breathing deeply and evenly to calm her. She’d expressed that something about his pattern of breathing had a way of calming her.

“I don’t deserve you.” She huffed with a sob, tucking her face away.

He froze for a moment, unable to fathom how on earth she did not deserve him when he was the one unworthy of her. “Hermione, you deserve everything.”

“I let my son die.” Her voice was rough with tears. He was going to have to get her a hot cup of tea soon with something to ease the strain on her voice.

“Your son was murdered, and you did your best to save him.” He argued, his fingers running absentmindedly down the side of her face.

“I should have left if I had only left beforehand.” Hermione bargained, trying to make sense of senseless violence,

“Hermione, you could not have known. From what I know from the situation, you thought it was going to be better.”

“I should have known.”

He could hear the blame in her voices, how she truly believed she was the villain of this story. How wrong she was.

“You cannot blame yourself.” Severus beseeched, wanting to ease her suffering.

A somber silence took them over for a few moments. It was just their breathing, the fire filling the spaces that were left empty from the words that had been being whispered between them.

  
“Who then, if not me.” She finally offered, as if she were trying to convince him that she was the one wrong.

“Blame the man who did it,” Severus said firmly, holding her to him.

Hermione let another cry loose, more tears coming and wetting the wool of his coat. “He doesn’t care, he had another son coming, one that he wants.”

“And that he will never get to see.”

It was a promise. 

“You don’t know that.” She whispered.

Severus did know it because he already consigned himself to this task. “If they do not put him in Azkaban Hermione, I assure you, he will never see that son of his. I promise you.”

“If you go to Azkaban, then I will be alone.”

“Who says I would get caught.” He parroted to her from an earlier conversation.

She smiled then, even with tears in her eyes. “True, you are as smart as I am.”

“Smarter.” He did his best to look offended.

She lifted her shoulders. “Maybe.”

  
A comfortable silence fell over them then, and he felt her adjust on him. She reached down and grabbed one of his hands, holding it in hers. She brought it to her chest as if she were cradling. He let her have control of his hand, not sure what she was doing. 

Severus looked at the fire, his other hand trailing through her hair. This was so natural to him to be there and have her lying on him. He didn’t understand it, but he welcomed it. 

A few moments later, he heard the soft sounds of slumber. Hermione had fallen asleep on his chest. Using his free arm, he grabbed his cloak, pulling it down over her and using his leg to make sure her legs were covered. 

He had told her that she could stay as long as she needed, and if that was all night, so be it. He settled, elongating the couch with his wand so that he was fully resting on it and savored the sensation of being there. When her sleeping sounds turned to snoring, he cast a muffling charm on her and tucked a pillow under his head. For good measure, he cast a muffling spell on him, so that his snoring would not frighten her as it had before.

Dinner was forgotten on his desk as he held her, eyes closed, quietly committing this to memory. Severus was content and felt full in a way that he did not think possible, with every crack of his broken spirit feeling like it warmed and melding back together. He didn’t know if this was healing old wounds or making them unimportant. But he knew he liked it. 

Sleep came quickly and without warning, dropping him into the waters of the mind.


	32. The First Trial : Test Your Might

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> This will be an emotionally taxing chapter.
> 
> Warning: Exhuming a body and lots of emotional pain from infant loss

The Ministry of Magic’s headquarters was alive with movement.

Witches and Wizards moved through elevators, and memos were already flying through the air. Hermione missed the energy as it had felt like this every morning as she went into work. She nodded at some former co-workers, many who gave her sad smiles. They knew why she was there.

The whole wizarding world did because Romilda Vane had made sure of it. The woman had been a champion of Hermione's, educating the public on the current state of the case and what Hermione was up against. It made it easier for her to not have to answer the questions.

The warmth of Severus carried her to the lower levels, where the court was held. It was a quiet fire in her, giving her sails a push against the sea of her fears. Hermione wanted nothing more to be back in that castle, at that moment. But she could not stop now. If she wanted to free of the monster that haunted her, she had to do this. 

In room 83-B, her lawyer was waiting for her with the odd assortment of people who were there to defend her and defame her. It was like the cast of a Greek tragedy. She was Penelope left to the wastes of the world for twenty years of suffering, her son Telemachus leaving her on an epic journey. She was prey to the suitors of her truth, who, like wolves, sought pieces of her to defame her faithfulness. If it wasn’t so damn heartbreaking, it would have been poetic.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, tempering her resolve before she entered her personal hellscape.

The room was dark and not inviting. Cold stone walls closed in the small space with benches and two tables, at the for of a place, the tall stand of the court. Only a reporter sat there, ready to record the proceedings. Hermione held her head high and walked over to where she could see Mr. Greengrass shuffling forms and speaking to her witnesses. 

Ginny, the three women from Secluded Delights, Draco, and George Weasley, nodded as they were given instructions.

In his muted brown robes, Mr. Greengrass looked at her and graced her with a professional smile. 

“Ah, Miss Granger, there you are.”

She took his hand, shaking it and offering as big a smile as she could muster.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley, so nice of you to join us, finally.” A shrill female voice startled her, and she turned to see the beetle eyes bane. Rita Skeeter, in her full lime glory, gold spectacles on her nose, stood there with a grin. Hermione felt her stomach drop to her knees.

“What is she doing here?” Hermione asked her barrister.

Before he could answer, Rita did the honors.

“I am here on behalf of a family member.” She purred sweetly, her green quill furiously taking notes at her shoulder.

_What on earth could that woman be here for, why was she writing..._

Hermione balled her fist, her shoulders squaring up as she considered telling the woman off.

A hand on her shoulder halted her tongue, and Mr. Greengrass turned her attention to their side of the room. “Miss. Granger, over here if you would please.”

Ginny was already on her feet, and she grabbed Hermione’s elbow, pulling her over. If it were not for them, Hermione might have given the woman a proper tongue lashing for her slander last winter.

“Gin, what is she doing here,” Hermione whispered, seeking answers that she didn't know.

Was Skeeter related to the Weasleys?

If it was, it was a distant relation, as she’d never heard of it.

Ginny shrugged as they walked over to the group, standing together. “I honestly don’t know.”

“As if today cannot get any worse.” Hermione exhaled, the warmth from before waning as she realized that this battle was even more complicated than she had imagined.

On the other side of the room, Molly stood with a tall man with dark hair and a crisp linen suit that was more muggle than a wizard.

Arthur sat there, his eyes darting between the conversation.

Rita was sitting with another man that Hermione did not know, and that man was sitting next to Maria.

What did they have in common? What link had she missed?

“Mrs. Granger.” 

Hermione turned her head and instantly smiled as the bartender from the club greeted her. Hermione shook her hand, giving it a squeeze and then spoke to the two women she had only had letter correspondence.

“Roxanne, Betty, Kathrine, I am so happy you could make it.” Hermione shook each one’s hand.

Roxanne was in a grey dress, her long brown hair in a braid coiled in a bun.   
Beside her, Elizabeth, who preferred Betty, was a beautiful brunette with a heart-shaped face in a pantsuit. Her features could have put her as a model in a fashion-forward article in Witch Weekly.   
Kathrine had a sterner look to her, but her short brown hair framed intelligent green eyes. These were three women who had chosen to stand with her as character witnesses to what Ron had done to them.

Over the weeks, they had continuously written, and Hermione felt like she knew these women well.

Kathrine gave her a smile, her handshake firm. “Mr. Malfoy is paying us for our missed time today just so that there was no reason we couldn’t come.”

“Thank you for this chance, Mrs. Granger.” Betty offered quietly, looking at the floor as soon as she was done speaking.  
Hermione knew that look well, and her heart hurt for the young woman who looked as nervous as Hermione felt.

“No, thank you.” Her gratefulness hopefully was in her voice, because these three women had lent her so much strength.

“Hermione.” Draco Malfoy said, looking like a crown prince in his dress robes. He’d even brought a cane that resembled his fathers except it had a tiger rather than a snake as it’s head. 

“Draco,” Hermione replied, and he hugged her, pulling her close to him. The initial jerk was uncontrollable, but she relented as he pulled her in.

Draco whispered in her ear, this conversation meant for only them. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know if I will ever be ready for this.” She whispered back, shaking her head.

“I hope you have your Gryffindor courage screwed on straight. This Judge is a miser, a blood purist, and no friend of my family any longer. His family is related to the Carrows, and he definitely holds notions of the old ways. There will be no easy path here, my friend.” Draco informed her, letting go and looking at her with sympathy.

“Thank you, Draco,” Hermione exclaimed. She was appreciative that he took the time to tell her what was at stake. It did not make her feel better, but it gave her information that could shape how she behaved.

Her lawyer got her attention again, holding up several forms. They were the statements that she’d sent ahead. She and Severus had poured over them all night, looking for something that could be turned against her.

“Miss. Granger, if you will look over these, make sure we have everything in order.”

She let go of Draco, who gave her a squeeze of her shoulder. Hermione moved to the desk, setting the forms down in front of her. “Of course, Mr. Greengrass.”

The older wizard stood beside her, speaking in a quiet tone. Hermione read over the words once more as he spoke.

“Please remember, speak in turn and if you have an interject or objection, direct it to me. Judge Antonius has no tolerance for anything out of order in his court. Your strong-willed nature will not serve you here.” Mr. Greengrass warned.

This was not the Judge she had been assigned, and suddenly, what Draco had said made more sense.

“What happened to Judge Lombardo?” Hermione questioned.

“Reassigned, at the last minute.” He offered, his eyes glancing toward the defense as if to tell her wordlessly that it had come at their request.

Hermione got the message and frowned. “I see they are still playing games.”

“I am not sure, my dear, but we must do what we must with what we have.”

Hermione took a look across the room, her eyes falling on the tall, dark man. He gave her a feeling that made her stomach twist and revolt. Whatever that man’s purpose here was, it was not good.

“Who is the man with Molly Weasley?” Hermione asked Mr. Greengrass, gesturing her head toward him.

He looked over there, taking a glance and then turned to look at her. His expression was as if he had bitten into a spoiled lemon. This did not bode well for what he had to say to her. “Their lawyer. An American who has the qualifications in both Ministries. Dual Citizen. Darcy Harkness. Merciless bastard.”

Her eyes widened at the man's use of ‘bastard.’ So far, Mr. Greengrass had been the example of polite conversation. “Strong words from you.”

“I save them for those who deserve them.” He offered, giving the man another sour look before turning back to her.

Hermione did another look over the forms that she could recite in her sleep and handed these back to him. “These look in order. What do we do next.”

He took them from her hand, shuffling them in front of him and lying them in a pile. He turned to her, the professional resolve back in its place.

“We wait for them to bring Mr. Weasley in, and then we are sworn in. Once that is done, we shall present the evidence first, as we are the plaintiff. Then Harkness will go. We will be able to dispute their evidence as much as they had disputed ours. Only the Judge has the final say on what is acceptable and what isn’t.”

“And so we are convincing him, not them.” Hermione summed up, looking at the empty seat above them.

“Exactly.”

A huff escaped her, and she pinched the bridge of her nose above her glasses. “Morrigan, save us.”

“I would start praying to them all if I were you, Miss Granger.” Mr. Greengrass offered.

A door at the back of the room opened, and Hermione turned to see Ron being dragged in. His skin was sickly white, and he looked like he’d lost a part of his body weight.

“Oh, my baby, oh Ron, what have they done to you.” Hermione heard Molly shriek, and she ran for him, putting her hands on his face and kissing his brow. Two guards from Azkaban stood at either side of him, and Hermione had to turn away.

Her blood had run cold. Just being the room with Ron brought back that night in the castle. She could hear his mocking, the sound of Maria’s voice. She closed her eyes, her palms leaning on the desk as she bowed her head. Hermione had to will back the urge to vomit. Her nerves began to fire, as if she were facing immediate danger, her heart starting to race.

_Think of something else… Anything else…_ Hermione told herself. The fear was of what she had in her mind, so instead, she focused on thoughts of Severus. 

His breathing, how he smelt after a shower, how deep his eyes could look into her soul. She tried to focus on how he’d helped her breathe, his face calm as he demonstrated to breathe in, hold it, and then breathe out. How he had kissed her like she was the antidote to a poison. Even as her heart pounded in her chest, she focused on that moment, that calm in a storm. If she could make it through today, he would be waiting for her.

It took her quite a few minutes, but she was able to tackle the anxiety rearing its head.

“Presenting, the honorable Judge Antonius. Please take your seats.” 

Hermione looked up as the old wizard rose the steps to the stand. He had sharp beady eyes and frown lines on his white face. The Judge looked like someone had sat upon a handsome man, and this was the wreckage left behind. His purple robes told her that he was a member of the Wizengot, and that was not something that made her feel at ease.

“Case brought before me today is the dissolution of the Marriage of Mr. Ronald B. Weasley and his wife, Mrs. Hermione J Granger-Weasley. Will those two present rise and their representation with them.”

Hermione stood next to Mr. Greengrass, her wand already in her hand. She’d been coached on the proceedings, on what to expect, and how to conduct herself.

“Wands out, please. Please repeat after me. I do solemnly and sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Hermione gave the oath, feeling the pull of magic as she signed this agreement with her intention. The room seemed to stand still for a moment, and then they were directed to sit.

“This case was requested by the plaintiff, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, so she and her barrister have the floor. Mr. Greengrass.”

Hermione’s lawyer stood, bowing deeply. “Thank you, your honor. I would like to submit to the court, documentation, and signed witnesses statements on my client's character and the defense, Mr. Weasley. In addition, witness statements of events that have occurred between my client and Mr. Weasley.”

The pile of papers, the labor of hours of research and collection, were passed to the Auror standing under the Judge's stand. He passed a wand over the documents, looking for Dark magic and then gave them up the Judge. Judge Antonius took them and set them in front of him, nodding.

“They will be reviewed during recess. Your clients' reasons for divorce have changed since the first request. It was unresolvable differences, and now it cites abuse, trauma, and adultery. Why has your client made these changes, rather than submit it at first.”

Hermione felt her throat tighten, having known this would be an issue. She did her best to look nonplussed, her gaze relaxed on the man in charge of her fate.

“My client feared retaliation from the defense when she first filed; however, she feels secure now that the courts will protect her from such.” Mr. Greengrass looked at her and offered the courts their planned response.

The Judge did not look impressed. “And why the change of heart in the court's power?”

“My client took my counsel and was more informed.” Mr. Greengrass offered with another bow.

This man looked down at her as he spoke, a touch of revilement in his tone. “It is said that Mrs. Granger-Weasley is the brightest witch of her age, why would she need you to educate her.”

Hermione felt like he was challenging her, daring her to speak out of turn.

Mr. Greengrass did not miss a beat. “Yes, that is true your honor, but one cannot claim to know everything about everything.”

  
The dark beady eyes left her, and she felt relief not being under their scrutiny. 

“Indeed. Your first witness.”

Hermione turned to look at her little tribe of defenders, giving a soft smile. Ginny knew she was up first, and she stood, brushing her robes down.

“I submit Mrs. Ginerva Potter, the defenses sister.”

“And Mr. Potter’s wife.” The Judge interjected, saying Harry’s name as a curse.

Mr. Greengrass nodded, his arm on Ginny’s as he led her to the front of the room.

“She is indeed his wife. However, her affiliation with her sibling is longer than that of her spouse.”

“Very well, Mrs. Potter, if you will, your wand.”

Ginny lifted her wand, being sworn in before the Judge before taking a seat in the chair that had been placed in the middle of the room.

  
“You are Mr. Ronald B Weasley’s sister, correct.”

Ginny nodded. “I am.”

“And so you have known him since you were born.”

“That is correct.”

The Judge leaned forward, his chin on his hands.

  
“How would you describe your relationship with your brother.”

Ginny shrugged. Hermione could not see her facial expressions, but she knew that it was likely a soft smile. She knew that Ginny didn’t hate Ron, that she hated what he’d become. 

“Ron has been a typical brother. We had our fights, but he did his best to watch over me.”

“You are the youngest and only daughter of Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, correct?” The Judge gestured to her parents, who were both now seated on either side of Ron.

“So you would have a pretty good idea of how he would treat women, would you not?”

“I would.” Ginny agreed.

“Has your brother ever struck you, or caused you harm?”

“Yes, he once tried to hex me purple and glued my hair to a door.” Ginny nodded, her hands moving to fold in front of her.

The Judge waved his hand nonchalantly. “I mean outside of childish pranks, Mrs.Potter.”

Ginny sat up straighter, and Hermione knew that her eyes were narrowed, just by the way she moved. “I don’t think it was childish. It was cruel. He also was not very kind with his words.”

“I see. Have you ever seen the defendant be that way with his wife.” The Judge asked her, peering down at her.

  
“Hermione came to me after the first time he had struck her. He’d bruised her face and busted her lip.”

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to not think about that night. If she had listened to Gin and Harry then, her life would have been so different.

“Did you see him do it?” The Judge asked accusingly.

Ginerva shook her head. “I did not.” 

“Then how do you know that it was him that did it?” 

“Because Hermione told me so.”

Hermione felt so touched by the power of Ginny’s belief in her. The tone of voice the young witch used brooked no room for compromise.

“So, you are going against your own flesh and blood over hearsay.” The Judge questioned.

“It is not hearsay, I believe her,” Ginny growled.

The Judge threatened with his voice. “Yet, you did not see anything happen.”

Ginny moved forward in her seat as she tilted her head to look up.

“I saw her after he bashed her face in on the tower.” Ginny retorted.

“Did you see him strike her.”

“No, Severus had already saved her.” It was a snarl that threatened so much from Ginny.

The Judge did not look impressed as he leaned back in his seat.

“Then, you shall keep your speculation to yourself, Mrs. Potter, or I shall have you removed as a witness as well.”

“Understood,” Ginny said slowly, her chin still high.

Hermione felt like someone had strapped rock to her chest and was pressing her down.

  
“Now, you’ve known the plaintiff since you were ten years old, correct?” The Judge continued, looking smug.

Ginny shook her head, correcting the man. “No, eleven, I did not meet her during Ron’s first year.”

“Ah, you met her when you were eleven. How would you say she conducts herself.”

Ginny turned around then and gave Hermione a massive smile as she spoke. “She is one of the smartest people I have ever met. She is kind, and she has gone out of her way to help my husband and anyone around her.”

The Judge beckoned her to look at him again. “Would you say that she is a rule breaker?”

Hermione felt dread at this line of questioning.

“I- well, I suppose she had broken the rules, when the rules were unjust.” Ginny agreed.

“So Mrs. Granger Weasley feels above the rules and will do what it takes to get the end she wants.”

The room went silent.

“I didn’t say that.” Ginny hissed, her hands clenching on the chair. Hermione could tell she was restraining herself.

“No, but you did just say that she will break the rules that she feels unjust and will do what she needs to help those around her.”

“That is twisting my words,” Ginny said, pointing her finger accusingly.

The Judge looked as if he were enjoying this.

“Those are the facts you have given me and sworn to. Now, how do you feel the plaintiff has conducted herself as a wife.” His tone was final and gave no room for a retort.

“Hermione took excellent care of Ron, she made sure that he had everything he needed. She worked hard and even brought the house for them.”

“Do you feel like he might have been emasculated by the fact that she made that much money and worked outside of the home while quote taking care of him.” The Judge offered, and Hermione felt her blood boil with rage. What did it matter if she made more money, it still didn’t give him cause for this.

“I don’t think so.”

“But you don’t know.”

“No, I do not, and I don’t want to speculate.”

“I see. Do you have anything else to add.”

The Judge smiled cruelly at the redhead before him.

“Hermione has been nothing but good to my brother and my family. She did not deserve what has happened to her.” Ginny said, standing, this time facing her brother and her parents.

“Your opinion is not fact, Mrs. Potter.” The Judge raised his voice.

Ginny turned her face to him, Hermione catching a glint of a smile. “You asked if I had anything to add, that was it, your honor.”

The Judge sighed and looked at Hermione’s lawyer.

“Very well. Be seated. Mr. Greengrass, I do hope you have stronger and more factual witnesses than this.”

“I do. I call Mr. Draco Malfoy, whom Mr. Weasley is indebted to.”

There was a dramatic sigh from the Judge at this revelation. “Very well.”

Draco’s interview went very much down the same vein as Ginny’s, yet he did not react as much as she did. Hermione had to hand it to him, he was cool under pressure. His devil-may-care attitude, blended with facts, numbers, and figures, did not give the Judge much room to tear him down. But he still found a spot.

“Is it true that Severus Snape is your godfather?”

Hermione’s eyes went to the man who had power over her fate.

“It is. What of it?” Draco answered, not even flinching.

“It has been speculated that the plaintiff and Mr. Snape had been having an extra-marital affair.”

Hermione glared at Rita Skeeter, who seemed to be on the edge of her seat with interest.

“I thought you did not want speculation in your court, your honor.” Draco turned the Judge's words back on him.

“Answer me, Malfoy.” The words were nearly spat.

Draco shrugged, his hand rotating his cane. “It has been, but it is not based in fact.”

“So, were we to follow this claim, what is to say that you are not here at the behest of your godfather to protect his lover.” The Judge insinuated.

Draco laughed, tilted his head back. “You obviously do not know my godfather well. If he wanted to protect her, he would do it himself.”

The Judge seemed to smile at this.

“Yet, you do not say he does not have a reason to protect her.”

Draco lifted his cane in his hand, pointing the tiger head at the man. “And you sir, are speculating. My godfather is not the reason I am here. Whatever his affairs are, financial or otherwise, are not my concern.”

“Interesting. You may be seated, Mr. Malfoy.”

This man tore through all of her other witnesses, making the three women cry as he claimed they were there for fame and nothing else. He even suggested that since they worked at a gentleman’s club, they should have expected Mr. Weasley's behavior. Hermione had Mr. Greengrass object, as there was no clause in any of the employment contracts that they had consented to assault and rape.

By the time it was Hermione’s time to speak, she was in shambles. Everything in her screamed against her being in that chair. Hermione understood why Severus didn’t want to be here, despite how desperately she wanted him there.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley, will you explain why you have deemed it necessary to sever your marriage to your husband.”

“My husband tortured me, abused me, and killed our unborn son, your honor. Why would I stay?” She asked quietly, feeling like she was in the spotlight.

“Yes, well, you have submitted no documentation about this supposed miscarriage.”

Molly Weasley began to shriek behind her. “There was no baby, she is making this up to hurt my Ron! And if there was, she killed it to hurt him. She’s that kind of person who would do anything to hurt my son.”

The Judge stood, yelling. “ORDER. Mr. Harkness, please contain your witnesses, or they will be ejected,”

“Yes, sire.” The dark man bowed and fixed Molly with a glare.

Hermione turned her face back to the man in the high seat.

“As I was saying, since there is no documentation of this or the abuse, I cannot allow it into the case.”

“But-” Hermione tried to interject, but she was talked over.

“Without proof or fact, there is just no reason for it.”

“My body is littered with proof.” She snapped, her hands shaking.

“And yet, you have submitted no photographs or mediwitch statements except for your injuries at your place of employment that no one saw Mr. Weasley give you.”

“What are you saying?” She asked, confused, turning to look at Mr. Greengrass, who looked equally out of sorts.

“Without a body or a certified mediwitch to tell me you were indeed pregnant and lost a child, I am barring any inclusion of the event in this divorce. Without any proof of injury, the abuse will be barred as well.”

She couldn’t believe her ears, and she stood. “Are you serious?”

“I am, Mrs. Weasley.” Judge Antonius replied with a slight smile on his evil lips.

“Granger.” She corrected.

  
The Judge leaned forward, correcting her. “Granger-Weasley. It is strange to me that you would keep your muggle name.”

“Why is that?” She did not sit, her hands were on her hips. It was the only way she didn’t shake, but not from fear, but anger.

“You married a pure family, wouldn’t you want to carry yourself as one of such old blood, rather than hold on to the mark of your past.”

Her head cocked to the side as she looked the man over. “You almost sound like you have an issue with me being muggle-born, sir.”

She was waved off as if her statement was a fly to be ignored. “No, your blood is not the reason for the dissolution of this marriage. If it were, this would already be a closed case, and Mr. Weasley would be free of you.” The Judge offered, and Hermione glared.

She stomped her foot, yelling. “That is purist and outrageous. How can you claim to be impartial when you just stated that you would dissolve this marriage if my blood status was in question, but not the fact that I was abused?! He nearly killed me!”

The Judge looked like he was pleased with this response, his words cold and drawn out.

“I think, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, that we will take a recess, and when you have cooled your temper, we will continue. Please remember, this is my courtroom, not the media circus that you can bend to your will. Recess for two hours. Mr. Greengrass, please educate your client on courtroom conduct. After she is done, we will move on to the defense, which no doubt has much to say about what they have heard.”

Hermione could not believe her ears. She sat there, stunned for a moment, trying to understand what was going on.

Everyone began to fill out, and Hermione stood there.

“Mione,” Ginny said, coming to her side.

  
Hot coals of anger had bloomed to a raging inferno in Hermione’s chest. “Get your husband. If they want a body, we will give them a body.”

Ginny seemed to know what she meant instantly. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I will not have that witch tell me that he did not exist.” There was pain and anger in her voice, and all she could think of was making Molly Weasley face the fact that her son had killed her grandchild.

“But what will it change,” Ginny asked quietly.

Hermione spoke with a voice that she didn’t even feel was hers. “Everything.”

* * *

  
She did not want to be here. Hermione looked up at the beautiful two-story house like she was going to prison. It looked just as it had when she left it. Her wand still opened the door. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

This had been her dream house. With its large windows, an office with wall to ceiling bookcases and a balcony in the bedroom.

It had become her nightmare.

Walking into the house, all she could smell was the stale stench of alcohol. Everything of hers was in her bag; what was left here were the bones of abandoned life.

Hermione stopped in the doorway, looking at the floor of the stairs with sorrow. She could never stand in that spot for long; it always made her feel like her gut was going to shrink out of existence.

“Come one, we’ve only got an hour,” Harry said, moving past her to the dining room. 

She shook herself from the thoughts, but the oppression and feeling of dread did not leave her. It clung to her like death as she moved through the house. She felt small here and like she should hide. It was leftover from the echoes of what she had suffered here.

In the dining room was a glass door that opened up on to a garden. Hermione had been growing herbs there and items for potions that were hard to get, but easier to grow. Now it looked barren as the snow had tucked everything under it. Hermione opened the door, stepping back out into the snow, and she felt the wash of sorrow. 

Hermione had loved this garden, and when she was pregnant, she would often sit in the sunlight, reading and imagining her child running through it, playing in plants, and laughing. Now all she heard was the cold nothingness that had been left behind.

“Where is he, Hermione,” Ginny whispered, the woman’s hand touching her arm. 

Hermione drew away and walked to the far corner of the garden. Every step made her feel like she was one hundred times heavier than the last. But she stood there, the top of the oval stone showing just over the snow. A flick of her wand and the snow was gone, leaving a stone perched on another rock.

**‘Alexander Herald Weasley’**

Hermione fell to her knees, the pain and the memories of burying her son coming back like a white-hot flash across her mind. Ron had helped her, acting sorrowful. He’d dug the hole and let her ease the box she’d made into the ground. He’d left her to cry once the stones were in place, leaving her to feel the rawness and emptiness herself. She was still bleeding, her belly swollen as she laid with her face on the stone, begging the gods to change it.

Hermione was on her knees again, sobbing, her face in her hands. But she wasn’t alone now. Ginny had wrapped her arm around her, her head on her shoulder, trying to give comfort. 

But there was no comfort for this wound that was raw and freshly opened. Hermione hadn’t remembered how much it hurt, how much it took her breath away until now when she was faced with it again.

“I’ll move the stones.” Harry offered, but Hermione shook her head, placing her hands up.

“I will do it. I have to.” She cried, trying to gather herself.

Harry sounded like he was crying. “You don’t, Hermione, we are here to help.”

“I am the one who buried him, I will be the one to unbury him. He doesn’t know you.” Hermione couldn’t explain it any better than that. It was a feeling, she had to be the one. She didn’t trust anyone else.

“Hermione,” Harry called.

It was Ginny who spoke now. “Harry, let her be. We cannot know this pain. Let her do what she feels she must.”

Ginny leaned away from her, standing beside Harry.

It took her several minutes to cry and apologize before she could force herself to move the stones back. Below the flat rock on the ground, under only a few inches of dirt, was a box. Hermione had transfigured it from a toy block that she had decorated the nursery with. It was smaller than a shoebox, but to Hermione, it was denser than a dwarf star. Her hands shook as she pulled the box from its resting place, crying and whispering apologies that were incoherent. 

She sat back, cradling the box to her chest, to emptiness below her heart filled with pain and sorrow.

She wept.

She wept like a baby, and she did not care that she was cold or that time was running out. She had no cares about anything.

  
“We need to go, they will put her in contempt.”

“I know, just a few more moments Harry.”

“She’s so heartbroken, I can’t watch her like this.”

“She needs us, Harry. She’s needed us all this time.”

“Ginny, I am going to kill your brother if they ever let him out.”

“Not if I get to him first.”

  
Hermione heard their conversations, but they were so far away as she sat in the bubble of anguish.

She’d forgotten how small the box was, she’d forgotten how much it hurt. And now it was there, in her hands and her heart, and she wished it were her instead.

Finally, Hermione let Ginny lift her to her feet. “We have to go.”

Harry went to offer to take the box from her, but she clutched it like it was her meaning for life. “I have him.”

“We only have a few minutes to get you there. Can we apparate from the house.” Harry asked her drawing his hands back.

She could only nod.

Harry grabbed her arm and side, along-ed her.

Hermione refused to let go of the box that held her son, every inch of strength focused on it.

  
They entered the courtroom just as the Judge was calling order.

“Mrs. Granger Weasley, we had thought you were not going to rejoin us.”

“She is here,” Ginny said, and Harry kissed her brow, before leaving the room.

“I see this, Mrs. Potter.”

  
Hermione could feel their eyes on her, she must have looked a mess, but she did not care. She walked forward, standing before the seat.

“What do you have there, Mrs. Granger-Weasley.”

“You wanted a body. Here he is.”

Gasps filled the room, and Hermione could hear the defense side whispering.

“Explain yourself.”

“We exhumed the corpse of my son, that my- the defense helped me to bury in our home after he beat me so badly that I miscarried. You wanted his body, and here it is.” Hermione could barely speak without sobbing.

“I seem to have misjudged you, madam. Auror Johnson, call a Mediwitch from St. Mungos.”

Hermione said there in the chair, not looking at anyone as she rocked herself, trying to soothe her pain.

After a few moments, an older woman came in, confused, but stood before the Judge.

“You will take this box from Mrs. Granger Weasley to St. Mungos. I want a full report on its parentage and cause of death.”

“The box, sir?” The woman seemed confused.

The Judge looked at her like he was talking to an idiot. “In it is the corpse of this woman’s supposed child.”

The dawning of realization passed over the woman’s face. “Ah, yes, sir.”

Hermione could not get herself to let Alexander go. “I, why do you need to take him, can’t you do your tests here.”

“Ma’am, I will return it to you.” The woman reached for it, and Hermione yanked back protectively.

“Him, it's a him.”

He wasn’t it, he wasn’t a thing.

The Judge ordered over her thoughts. “Mrs. Granger Weasley, you will release the evidence to the mediwitch, if you wish the testimony about it included in your case.”

“It is my son, not evidence.” She glared, her teeth bared like a lioness defending her cub. 

“You will release it.” He barked back, his own teeth bared.

Hermione turned to the woman in the lime green robes, her eyes full of warning. “I swear if you do not bring him back to me so that I can give him a proper reburial, that you will regret it.”

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley!” The Judge yelled.

The woman’s face softened, and she leaned into Hermione. “I swear that I will bring him back to you.”

“On your life?” Hermione demanded, ignoring the room around her.

The mediwitch nodded. “On my life.”

Hermione regretfully let him go, and the woman held the box to her walking away.

The pain Hermione felt was so sharp that she had to force herself to stay sitting.

  
“Now that is settled, where were we.” The Judge began, and Hermione looked at him, crossing her arms.

_I have had enough of this…_

“I have no further answers for you, your honor.”

“I beg your pardon.” He asked, leaning forward. He looked as if he did not think she would dare speak to him that way.

“You have my answers, you have my statements. I have nothing further to say to you until the hearing is officially underway.” She would not be shaken from this stance. 

Hermione might have been weakened and distraught, but she was not going to stand by and be abused by this man.

“Very well. You may be seated.”

Hermione took her seat, placing her head in her hands.

She could not focus on what was going on, only able to focus on the fact that her son was no longer buried. That she had to disturb his final resting to prove that he existed.

Much of the defense witnesses and questions were wasted on her. She was locked in her own head, trying to grapple with the pain she had not prepared for. She felt like she was going to have a heart attack with how loudly her heartbeat in her chest. 

Hermione felt she was not in her own body like she was several steps to the side. Anything anyone else said was a muffled whisper, like the background noise of a film. 

When the court was ended for that day, to be restarted the following morning, she did not respond. Only when Ginny hoisted her from her chair, pulling her into a hug did she even start to react or feel like she had any control of her own self.

“Let’s get to my place. I will make you dinner, and we can talk.”

“Mkay.” Hermione managed to whisper.

* * *

  
At the Potter’s, Hermione did not find herself in a much better headspace. Harry and Ginny had some kind of conversation in the study while she sat with Lily in her arms, babbling away.

Hermione did not hear any of it, slumped as she was on the sofa. All that replayed was her having to unearth her son and go back into that house.

She wanted to burn it to the ground, she wanted it to fade from existence, just as she wanted to stop existing.

After a while, Ginny sat by her, taking her hand and getting her attention.

“Hermione.”

“Hmm.” She looked at her, trying to put on a smile for Ginny.

“I want you to show me your scars.”

Hermione sat up in her seat, nearly tossing Lily to the floor as she covered herself.

“What, no, why?”

Ginny sighed and took Hermione’s hand. “I want to take photos of you for the courts.”

“I can’t. I- you don’t want to see what I look like under these clothes.” Hermione was still holding herself with one arm as she backed away.

“You were so brave today. I need you to have a little more of that bravery.” Ginny pleaded, looking like she was about to cry.

Hermione wanted to cry, but she didn’t think that her sore eyes had any more in them today. “But, I haven’t- I can’t look at myself. Not even when showering.”

“Then don’t, but we need proof of what he did to you, and that bastard of a judge is going to do everything he can to discredit you.”

“Ginny, I don’t want to horrify you.” Hermione pleaded, trying to get her friend to see that this would not be a great idea.

  
Ginny looked at Hermione, and she could tell that she was trying to get the point across. “Hermione, I am only asking to do this for you.”

Hermione understood why she understood that it was needed. But that did not stop the fear and revulsion she felt from her own body and having anyone else see it.

“Will you not show the photos to me, or anyone but those who need to see them at the court,” Hermione begged.

“I swear on James and Lily’s life that I will not show them to anyone who doesn't need to see them,” Ginny swore.

It was enough for her, and she knew that Ginny was right. Even if it hurt, she had to do it. “Okay.”

“Come up to my bedroom, Harry will take care of the kids.”

“Alright.”

“And tomorrow, we will teach those bastards how much they underestimated you,” Ginny said, heading upstairs ahead of her.

  
Hermione gathered the last bit of her courage and went upstairs. Ginny offered her a blindfold to make it easier, and Hermione agreed, putting it on before she stripped down to her underwear. 

She heard Ginny’s gasp, and she tried to shirk away, but Ginny placed a hand on her arm.

“I am so sorry, Hermione. I-, Merlin, he did all this.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, some of it is curse damage from the final battle and from Bellatrix, but most of it is from him.”

“Circe save us.” Ginny breathed.

Hermione tried to not think of how vulnerable she felt as Ginny took the photos, asking where each scar came from. Hermione knew most of them by heart, but some, she couldn’t even remember. 

“He wrote his name in your skin?” Ginny exclaimed in disbelief.

“Burned.” She corrected, sighing sadly.

“Oh my god, why did you never say anything.”

Hermione shrugged, feeling distant again. “I ask myself that a lot. I was scared of what he would do if I did.”

“He should have been afraid of what I would do when I found out,” Ginny explained.

  
They spent nearly an hour documenting everything. Hermione was so emotionally taxed, that she could barely keep her feet.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Ginny said, taking the blindfold off once Hermione was dressed.

She shook her head, feeling no safer in her robes now. “No, Severus is waiting for me.”

“What is going on with that? Are you- did something get better.” Ginny asked, and Hermione smiled.

“If I told you, you’d be conflicted. I will tell you when this is all over.”

“Alright, well, let’s get you to your great protector.” Ginny teased.

“He’s rolling his eyes because you said that.”

Ginny potter laughed.“I am sure he is.”

* * *

Getting to the castle was not as easy as she had expected. The wear on her mind and body had her so exhausted. Ginny had to practically carry her up the snow into the building.

She heard him approach, and she must have looked as bad as she felt. 

His tone was nothing but worry. “How can I help? What happened?”

Hermione looked up at him and stood as straight as she could manage.

“It was a hard day. She was at my house for a while, I tried to calm her. It did not go well. They-”

She cut Ginny off with a touch to her arm. It was too public a place, and she didn’t think she would be able to not cry if they told him what had happened here.

“I’ll tell him when we get someplace private.” 

Hermione was so tired, and her voice hurt from all the crying she had done today. She wanted peace, and quiet, and the gentle calm that she felt with Severus there.

“Can we take dinner in my rooms, or somewhere private. I have a lot to tell you.” Hermione pleaded with him, grabbing hold of his forearm. 

Just touching him sent the comfort of warmth over her shoulders.

He looked into her eyes, and she could feel that he was worried.

She was not looking forward to how he would react when she told him. She wasn’t looking forward to how she reacted.  


  
Ginny offered her reasons for leaving. “I’m going to get back to Harry and the kids. Remember what I said, Hermione.”

Hermione looked at the floor, not wanting to think about the fact that tomorrow, her body would be on review for that horrid little man to see. “I know, I know. I’ll be okay. I have to be; I have to be there tomorrow.” 

“I will be there too,” Ginny said firmly, and Hermione did her best to commit to her own emotions that she would not be alone.

“Thank you, Ginny, for everything.”

“What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t stand with you now.”

“I won’t be your sister in law much longer if I have anything to do with it.” The pain morphed long enough for Hermione to feel hate for Ron and what she had to go through to get to this point.

“Bullshit. You are Harry’s sister. Which means you will forever be my sister, in law or otherwise.” Ginny’s laugh and assurance that they would still be family after this did help, just a little bit.

“Thank you. Get home before James and Lily drown him in the tub.” 

“Tomorrow,” 

Hermione knew what Ginny was saying. Tomorrow, they would go on the offensive. They knew the enemy they faced. With their powers combined and their irrefutable proof, they would convince this incorrigible Judge that Hermione had a right to ask for this dissolution.

“Tomorrow.” Hermione agreed.

Severus looked at her, and Hermione could not shy away or hide how much she was hurting. Her energy and resolve were waning. He seemed to come to some decision, pulling her closer to him. Hermione welcomed it and leaned into him for the support.

“Would you like to come to my rooms, they are closer?” 

Hermione could not believe it. Severus was the most private man she knew. He’d never offered for her to come there before. Was she in such a state that he felt sorry for her and wanted to bring her there? “I- do you want me in them?”

“I would not offer if I did not want you there.” Severus squeezed her hand, and she had to give into him. She had nothing left to fight anyone.  
“Alright.”

  
He did not seem to mind that she leaned heavily on him; in fact, he seemed to pull her more toward him, like he was sheltering her. A few students passed, but none of them looked at the two of them. She suspected they knew better.

They stopped at the archway that had a tapestry of two sea-beasts. The goat looked like it was both predator and prey, and she couldn’t help but think how it fits both Severus and a room in the dungeons. For all she knew, it was a portrait of the great squid. It was beautiful, however, and she was amused at how it moved.

Severus placed his wand on the full moon that reflected over the water.

“Me, poor man, my library was dukedom large enough.”

She looked at him curiously, trying to place where she had heard that before. It was something muggle, that was not something she’d read in the library. He led her into the room, and she had to ask him.

“I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

He nodded, answering simply. “Prospero, Tempest.” 

“Ah,” 

Hermione did not think he was a Shakespeare type person, but the line made sense. She thought she could remember how Prospero did not want the job he was given, having only wanted to have books and knowledge.

Severus told her to go make herself in front of the fire. She wasn’t sure if she would ever feel comfortable again.

“Thank you, Severus.” 

“Think nothing of it.”

  
Hermione moved to the sofa, sinking into it. She kicked off her shoes, not wanting to dirty the material, and brought her knees up. Hermione wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. She looked at the fire, watching it flicker. It did not hold her focus for long. Once again, she was in the garden, moving the stones and drawing her son from his final resting place. All at the venom of a man who wanted nothing but to doom her.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Hermione was doing everything by the rules that had been laid out for her. Why did they have to switch the Judge. Why did he have to be so cruel?

Hermione curled more into herself, barely noting that he had taken a seat next to her.

“Hermione.” 

She heard him whisper, but she was still not entirely in the room with him. The fire became a focus as she answered him, trying to come back to the here and now, even though the past was tearing at her mind.

“Yes, Severus.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened today before we eat,” Severus asked her, hesitantly.

A sob threatened to escape, but she pressed her lips closed. When she was sure that she would not cry on the spot, she answered him. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“How about the beginning.” 

She’d had enough people turning her words on her for the day, and she would not let him do it to her. She glared at him.

“Yes, well, that would be obvious, wouldn’t it.”

His surrender and speech gave her pause.“I do not mean to tease.” 

He was not her enemy. In fact, he was the thing that let her go on and helped her make it here. “I know.”

Hermione looked into the fire again, trying to uncoil the pain and find a piece to start weaving the tale for him. It was like trying to undo a knot that was several knots at once.

“I have all night, you do not need to rush on my account,” Severus offered.

  
_I do not…_ Hermione thought wearily. She had to be back in that room, bright and early.

  
After much back and forth, Hermione decided that she needed to tell him the most crucial part and then go on from there.

But it hurt. It hurt so much that Hermione wanted to cut open her own gut just to alleviate the pressure.

Surely it would hurt less then.

  
“We exhumed him.” She squeezed out, tears on the heels of the words.

“Who?”

His question hurt her. “My son.”

The sympathy in his voice did make up for the pain. “Oh. Hermione.” 

Hermione took a deep breath and pushed it all way. It was a story, it was something she was telling. It wasn’t real, and Hermione had to tell the story at arm's length. If she believed it wasn’t real, then she could talk about it. Even when she felt empty and hurt. “It had to be done. I would not let her win. I did not give up. They said without a body, there was no proof. So Harry and I, we brought them a body.”

“I am so sorry I was not there.”

“It’s okay. Harry was.” 

Her resolve broke as she thought about how lost he’d looked trying to help her. Hermione felt the stripe of pain in her heart, and she couldn’t hold on to the idea that I wasn’t real. It was real, and it was fresh, and she wanted to stop hurting. “I’d forgotten how much it hurt. Or it had started to hurt less, and now, it is all fresh.”

Severus pressed a piece of cloth in her hands, and she wiped the dirty glasses on her face and then her eyes. They hurt so much like she had rubbed glass in them, but the tears were coming nonstop.

“I am here,”

Hermione was shaking, her hands barely able to hold the dirty fabric as she tried to wipe her face. She didn’t know why she was shaking, but she couldn’t stop it.

“They couldn’t believe that we would go and get him. I had to go back into that house. I never want to go back to that house again.” 

Hermione would sooner burn it than go again. There was nothing left there for her now.

Severus whispered to her quietly. “Then don’t.”

Hermione felt a wisp of something dark in her mind. If she weren’t here, if she were with her son, this suffering would be over. It would be done, and there would be no more tears. If she had died with him or she died now, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. And if she died, no one else would be able to hurt her.

The thoughts scared her, and she turned to him, afraid of the world, and at the moment, it little fearful of herself.  
“Severus, I am not okay. I don’t feel okay."

He opened her arms, and Hermione threw her glasses. She climbed into his lap, seeking refuge and respite against the storm of the world. Hermione dug her fingers into wool and sobbed her heart out. Hermione could not stop the sounds that escaped as she felt like she was cracking open at the seams.

She tried to explain what Molly had said and how Ron looked. Severus commented, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered is that he was there. Merlin, she wished that he’d been there with him. 

Her heart ached as he thought of her son, alone in the hospital. Even though he was deceased, Hermione still felt like he was. Everyone else has said it or the body. But that was her son, her precious child who had never gotten the chance to live. And now he was being tested like he was a lab rat. She shuddered.

“And they took him from me. They took his body from me.” Hermione cried, her face pressed into his chest. 

“Where did they take him, Hermione?” She felt him stiffen, and his voice was no longer sympathetic, but instead fierce.

“St. Mungos. They want to conduct a magical paternity test.” Hermione offered.

She remembered the witch’s face and her promise. Hermione would raise hell if something happened, and her son’s body disappeared.

“Then I am sure he is in good hands.”

“But what if they lose his body, and I cannot bury him again.” She voiced her fears.

If she couldn’t put him back to rest- if something happened. She would fail him a second time. Hermione did not think she would be able to live through that.

“They will not,” Severus said it like it was gospel like he knew it to be true.

“How do you know.” She pleaded, wondering if he knew something she did not.

“Because I have a friend on the third floor in St. Mungos as a supervisor whom I will be sending an owl to shortly. Her husband is an Auror, and they are honorable people.” He offered.

Hermione pressed her head into his neck, shaking her face against the wool. “Don’t put yourself out there for me.”

“Hermione, if it will ease your mind, I will do it.”

_But you won’t come to be my witness…_ She thought bitterly, snorting air.

  
But she understood. She’d never been a prisoner in that said rooms, but she didn’t want to go back herself.

It was like all her strength had been zapped, and she was a bundle of weakness.

“Severus, I felt so weak.”

He gave her squeeze, pressing her to him. “You are not weak. No one can do what you have done and be weak.” 

A pain ran over her back, an ache from the position they were in. She moved in his lap, trying to find some way to be more comfortable. She did not want to get out of his lap, but she decided to stretch out.

Hermione wondered if he would be amicable with the idea of cuddling with her. They were practically doing it already, but she wanted a horizontal position.

Hermione was afraid of his answer but asked anyway. “Please, can I- can we lay down? If it will be comfortable for you, this is not comfortable for me.” 

When he let her go, she was sure that she had offended him. That he was going to tell her to leave. Hermione climbed out of his lap, ready for the insults.

But they didn’t come. Instead, Severus took off his cloak. “By all means.”

Severus laid on the sofa, stretching out before her. Hermione was a bit shocked that he agreed, but she climbed on him with his guidance. She did her best to not hurt him, nuzzling into him. He wedged her between him and the couch, and for the first time in the day, Hermione felt safe. When he wrapped his arms around her, she thought it was okay, if only for a moment.

She still hurt, she still had so much pain, but she wasn’t alone. He was there, comforting her.

Hermione hoped that her weight was not hurting him, she’d gain a bit since she’d return to the school. “Is this alright.” She asked him quietly.

“Yes, you may stay here as long as you need.”

His words rumbled through her, and she relaxed, resting her face against his chest. She could feel his fingers in her hair, and it felt right. Hermione focused on his breathing as she rose with each inhale and fell with each exhale. 

Part of her wished this had been what she’d always had. If Molly Weasley had not interfered if she had let them be, would this have been a part of her everyday life?

Would she have been able to seek this comfort from him whenever she needed it?

What would their life have looked like?

  
Hermione had been such a fool to never look into why he’d lost his mind that night. She was so wrapped up in her own hurt and then the wedding and the pressure. She never looked back, and if she had, her life would have been so different. Severus suffered, knowing that she cared for him and yet, pushed her away for what he thought was a better life.

He’d given up his potential happiness for hers. Ron would have never done that.

“I don’t deserve you.” She let the words escape her without regard to how he would take them.

She regretted it when he froze, holding her. 

“Hermione, you deserve everything.”

_How on earth did she deserve anything?_

She’d failed at so much. Her most significant failure was to protect her son, and she felt it in her soul. Every inch of her hurt.

“I let my son die.” 

She was going to cry again.

Severus argued with her, touching her cheek as he did so. “Your son was murdered, and you did your best to save him.” 

Hermione could not believe him, she was the one responsible for what had happened. “I should have left; if I had only left beforehand.” 

“Hermione, you could not have known. From what I know from the situation, you thought it was going to be better.”

He didn’t understand, he wasn’t there. Severus didn’t get that she should have known that it would have only been a matter of time before Ron did something to her and the baby. “I should have known.”

“You cannot blame yourself.” Hermione could hear him begging her.

  
But how could she not blame herself? She’d been the one to try to keep it all a secret. She thought that telling Molly when she was a little closer to her date would have prevented the woman from hovering. She didn’t want to go to St. Mungo’s because there would be no way to keep it from the press.

And then, that night, she couldn’t get anyplace. She barely had the energy to keep herself from bleeding out. If she’d tried apparating, she’d had died on St. Mungo’s doorsteps. But she could have done more. She could have summoned a potion or crawled to the floo. She should have done more. If she wasn’t to blame, then who was.

  
“Who then, if not me.” 

“Blame the man who did it,” Severus sounded angry.

Hermione started crying, large tears that soaked the wool of his coat.

Ron didn’t care. Placing blame on his feet would do nothing. He had a child that he wanted to come. Her son had been in the way. It would do nothing to blame him.

“He doesn’t care, he had another son coming, one that he wants.”

“And that he will never get to see.” Severus seemed to make it a statement of fact.

“You don’t know that.” She whispered.

His sharp inhale and how he growled told her more than she needed to know about what he would do. “If they do not put him in Azkaban Hermione, I assure you, he will never see that son of his. I promise you.”

Hermione feared that because right now, she felt like Severus was part of what was holding her from that edge of oblivion. She'd forgotten it was there until it was almost on her again.

“If you go to Azkaban, then I will be alone.”

  
“Who says I would get caught.” 

Hermione smiled, remembering how she’d said the same thing about Molly. That she was too smart to get caught. “True, you are as smart as I am.”

“Smarter.” Severus looked at her as if she had affronted him. 

“Maybe.” She gave him a soft shrug.

  
Hermione was so tired that her body was fighting not to sink into slumber at the warmth of his embrace. She grabbed his hand, pulling it to her. Hermione wanted to have his fingers in hers so that she knew it was real. She pressed her lips to the first knuckle of his fingers. Closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds around them. She could hear the water's sounds at the windows, the crackle of the fire, and his breathing.

He was all around her: his scent, his warmth. Hermione felt like she was in a cocoon of his essence, and even with everything that had gone wrong, it felt right. She yawned, her face resting his shoulder as she looked up at his chin.

To the world, he was not a pretty man, but Hermione saw something different. Who he was on the inside changed how she saw the outside. There was a softness to how he relaxed his face, and there was strength in his angled features. Hermione closed her eyes, tucking under his chin.

It was supposed to be a blink, but somehow, she’d been taken by Morpheus, the dreamlord, without her noticing it.


	33. Step 2: Take Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He felt heavy like he’d fallen asleep under something that was pressing on his chest. He shifted, rolling his shoulders and arching his back. The boulder on him grumbled.

He opened his eyes to an untamed mane of brown hair in his face. It came back to him as he inhaled the scent of her.

Hermione.

They’d fallen asleep on the couch together.

His body ached and did not like that he’d been in the same position for several hours. Even his feet, which he’d left in his shoes, were crying in discomfort.

Severus needed to get up, he had things to do, yet he had no desire to disturb her sleep. Adjusting his body, he began to slowly inch his way out from under her.

She nuzzled her face into his neck.

A warmth spread over his body, and it threatened to respond in a manner he did not desire at this moment. His movements were imperative now, as he slid his hips out from under her first before he betrayed himself. 

Lifting her slightly with his arms, he managed to move from under her weight, settling her back on the sofa.

Severus stretched and groaned, trying to get the aches and pains to diminish as he made his way to the lavatory. Once he had freshened up for the day and bid his body to behave itself, he looked at the time.

It was only one a.m.

He had time.

Sitting at his desk, he could still see the top of her head over the couch's arm. 

He dipped the quill in ink, penning the urgent letter.

**Mrs. Shade,**

**It seems that I find myself in need of accepting your offer of assistance. A friend of mine finds herself in a similar situation and yet much more traumatizing than what happened to your dear Abigail. Her son’s body has been sent to your hospital by way of the courts. I fear that due to this friend's fame and the forces working against her, something will happen. I would be in your debt, should you look into the matter and ensure that all the proper work is done and that the child is returned to the mother so that she can bury her child and grieve. The child belongs to Mrs. Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, but I have no idea what she named the child if she got a chance. This is a dire and urgent situation.**

**I would also appreciate that should your findings in the matter bring you to cause to do so that you offer yourself as an expert witness in the case. Your particular field of knowledge is known, and aside from your connection to me and your son’s attendance at Hogwarts, you’ve no link to her.**

**Please tell Shamus that I enjoyed the last theory he provided me and that I look forward to unraveling his work for him. Malcolm is still having behavior issues, but they are being addressed. I feel he may have sensed more from your private tragedy than he has let on and is still suffering from it. I will keep you abreast of the situation.**

**I send this to you in good faith that it is for your eyes alone and that my involvement in this matter is unknown. I have no desire to cause Mrs. Granger-Weasley more pain, and we both know that old prejudices die hard.**

**With my respects,**

**Professor Severus T. Snape**   
**Deputy Headmaster and D.A.D.A Professor**   
**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

  
As soon as the ink was dry, he was sending it off.

He did not want Hermione to fret about it, and he also knew that once Artimis Shade got her hands on the information at hand, she would be as doggedly determined to find the truth as any witch. The woman was a bulldog, and he had never seen her fail in any of her endeavors. She had been a student of his long before the war and had been someone he corresponded with because they shared a common interest in some more unique potion aspects. It was she who had told him about the intent-based brewing book that had helped him so much as of late.

He had lied to Hermione about her husband, Shamus. However, that was because the man was an unspeakable, and Severus was not keen on letting it be known that he had contacts in that department. Things could get unnecessarily messy for those he associated with.

Severus took a deep breath and began a second letter.

  
**Mr. Connerie,**

**I know that your wife will have likely told you that I have sent word for her and have mocked your latest attempt at combining the marvels of muggles with wizardry for the use of the Department of Mysteries. I have a special request for you that Artimis need not be privy to.**

**I fear that someone may have been under some manner of influence, and I desire your keen skills to look into it. As you may know, since there are no secrets in the Ministry, the Granger-Weasley Case is on the lower floors. I would request that you do a scan of each individual there and uncover if my suspicions are right. I do not need to know the results, but I am sure that if I am right, you will know who to tell.**

**Also, how is your wife actually doing? I know that she speaks in her letters as if it is another day in the life of a mediwitch, but I cannot imagine holding it together so well. If you find you need more than the idiots at the Ministry to speak to, my desk is open to your owls. I am helping a friend of mind deal with a similar grievance and cannot imagine the pain you have suffered as a father.**

**Malcolm tried to turn water to rum again and managed to make a robust gin. He was punished, but you know he will try again. I advise you to send him a letter and make sure he is coping.**

**And no, Shamus, you cannot make a robot that will cast shielding spells for you in a duel. That is just absurd, and cheating and you know it.**

**Your friend and someone who still thinks you are an idiot,**   
**Severus T. Snape**

**Also, buy that woman some godsdamn flowers, because how she puts up with you is a mystery to even me.**

  
He sent the second owl and looked at her sleeping peacefully.

  
With a heavy sigh, he thought about what he knew he needed to do. It would be more than letters to colleagues and secret missions.

Severus was not fond of it, but he knew that if he was going to protect his witch, he would have to come to terms with some matters very quickly.

She stirred, lifting her head.

“What? What time is it?” Her voice was heavy with sleep, and he smiled at her.

“Sleep, you have a few hours until you must get up.”

“Why did you get up.” She yawned, rolling into his cloak.

He moved over to the sofa, looking down her. “I needed to use the loo and then had to respond to some letters.”

“Hmm, did you want to come back to the sofa.” Her eyes were closed as she spoke, and he suspected that she was not entirely awake.

“Will it make you happy.”

She curled in the cloak, tucking her face under it. “At present, yes, I am cold.”

He suspected that his teaching robes would smell like her for the rest of the day. While that made him smile, the idea of lying in the same position on the sofa for a few more hours did not.

“Might I suggest the perfectly good bed I have in the other room,” Severus said, leaning over the sofa's arm.

Her eyes flashed open, terror in dark honey eyes, and she shook her head no at him.

He held his palm out to her, nodding. “Understandable. It was not an advance, Hermione.”

“I just, I’d rather not.” She looked embarrassed.

Severus drew his wand. “Then, I shall make this more comfortable for us both.”

  
With a flick of his wand, he made it wider and longer, but still maintained the sofa's look and shape. He had a suspicion that it was the idea of being in a bed with him that frightened her.

“Is this acceptable.”

She looked around and scooted back to the back of the couch, giving him plenty of room to lie down. “Yes.”

Severus laid down on his side now, and she curled into his chest, using his arm as a pillow.

“Then sleep.”

“Mhmm, thank you, Severus.”

  
Severus laid there, listening to her as she slept. He could see her face now, and she looked so at peace. Gone were the lines of pain or the tears or the contortions of anguish. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her brow, allowing himself the indulgence. He adjusted once more, set the alarm, and closed his eyes, letting the presence of her lull him into sleep at her side.

* * *

  
“Professor.”

He rolled over, looking at the house-elf that was interrupting his slumber.“Hmm, yes, what it is Blinky?”

“An urgent letter.”

“Who from?”

“St. Mungo’s, sir.”

“Place it on my desk, I will be up in a moment.”

He lifted Hermione’s head from his arm, and he rolled from the couch. He was not nearly as stiff. It had only been an hour and a half. 

_Had Shade worked that fast?..._

Severus yawned and picked up the letter. He spotted Hermione’s glasses and set them on his desk.

  
**Severus,**

**What in the fresh hell happened to this poor child. Don’t answer that. I actually don’t need you to tell me, as I have the evidence before me. I know you didn’t ask for a report back, but this was too much.**

**It’s true what Vane said in the paper. I’m willing to bet galleons that she has lasting damage from this if she cared for it herself. Circe, why didn’t she come here? No matter, I will be there in the morning. I already relieved the incompetent fool they were going to send. Someone was trying to muck this up. They sent him to the ward for memory issues.**

**You are not in my debt, and neither is she.**

**Also, please stop tormenting my husband. I know you both enjoy it, but I have to listen to his complaining when you are right and his gloating when he is. Can’t you be normal and talk about Quidditch or the weather. When/If you get a wife, I will be sure to torment you in the same manner.**

**As for my son, I will send him a letter. Thank you for watching over him, I know he is a handful. All young men are at that age.**

**With respect and esteem**

**Artimis T. Shade**   
**Supervisor and Healer**   
**St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**

**PS. And about the be the HBIC at that court hearing. Did you know that they put Antonius on it?**

  
Perhaps he had underestimated how quickly the Slytherin woman would have acted on his letter.

Tucking the letter aside, he climbed back into the sofa bed and wrapped his arms around Hermione.

At first, she seemed to relax into him, and he closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep.  
Then without warning, her fist came crashing into his chest, then his chin, and he barely rolled out of the way that was meant for his nose.

“Hermione!” He called to her, getting out of the way of her swinging arms.

She snapped her eyes open and looked at with rage. “Don’t you fucki- oh- oh shit! Severus, I am so sorry, I didn’t, oh Merlin. I thought.”

“You thought I was him.” Severus offered, on his knees at the side of the couch.

She looked like a kicked kitten, her eyes downcast and her face in a frown.“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“No, I should have let you know that I was returning.”

Severus felt guilt and pain as his jaw ached from where she had hit him squarely in the bottom of it.

He rubbed it, shaking his head as he stood up, rubbing the spot on his chest. Thankfully, the wool prevented much of the impact.

Draco was right, the woman had a sound punch.

“Please don’t be cross, please, I am sorry.” She begged, and he put his hand up.

“It is fine, you did not do much damage.”

“If you need me to leave, I will.” She was uncurling from his cloak like she was going to run.

Pulling on the authority of his teaching voice, he got her attention. “Fool woman, be quiet and let me back into the sofa. I have classes to teach, and you have to get ready to leave in an hour.”

“I- I’m so sorry.” She said, and she moved back, letting him lie back down.

“I have suffered worse.” He grumbled, rubbing his chin still. It was going to be red, but he did not suspect it would bruise. If it did, he had salves for that.

She pressed herself against the back of the sofa, away from him. She held her hand to herself, and her eyes looked like she was afraid of his retaliation.

“Come here.” He opened his arm to her, hoping to show that he had no intention of being angry with her. With what she had suffered, he should have known that doing anything when she was sleeping would cause her to fight. He’d given no indication it was him. When he touched her when she was ill, he always tapped her chin.

“Are you sure.” She asked, worried, and he almost thought there was a touch of fear.

“If you do not want me here, I can go into the bedroom and sleep there.” He said, preparing to do just as he said.

Severus would not force his presence on her, and he was afraid he was on the verge of doing just that.

“No, please stay.” She reached out and grabbed his arm.

He relaxed back into the makeshift bed, tucking his arm behind his head. “Very well.”

  
Severus laid there still as she tentatively crawled over to him. She placed her head on his chest and sighed heavily. “I am sorry.”

“I know, now please, before I get no sleep at all.” He groused, feeling exhausted from being woken twice.

  
Hermione said no more, tucking into him and covering him with his cloak that she had wrapped around herself. He put his arm around her, drawing her close, and he closed his eyes, falling into slumber once more. 

* * *

When the alarm went off, it was he that was alone on the sofa. He opened one eye, looking around for her.

He did not have to look far as she was sitting on the end of the couch, looking at the fire.

“Good morning.” She offered quietly.

“If you can call this hour that.” He grumbled, turning so that he could sit up with her.

“I didn’t want to wake you. I had a nightmare.”

He sat up, moving to sit next to her. “I am sorry to hear that. I would have woken for you.”

“You were snoring comfortably. Besides, you’ve done so much for me. You didn’t have to let me stay the night.” Hermione seemed to have her mind on something else. She didn’t look at him.

Severus felt like she had not expected him to be so open with his time and space. “Hermione, did you honestly think I would not?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure where we are.” She shrugged, looking at him with a mixed expression.

“I’m not sure I am following you on that, but I did just wake up.” He rubbed his forehead, trying to shake the sleep from his mind.

Hermione gestured between them as she spoke. “This. I don’t know where we are with this, and I am not trying to presume or force you into anything, or I don’t know, make expectations.”

 _Ah, that made a lot of sense to him..._ She was now trying to determine what this increasing closeness was.

“Right now, Hermione, we are this. Whatever it is, does not need your focus. You have too much on your mind and heart to have me add complications.” Severus tried to comfort her as he stretched.

Hermione frowned at him. Her face was framed by firelight. “But I want your complications.”

“Hermione. Take this into consideration, please. To entangle with me, more than we currently are can adversely affect your hearing.” He took her hand, trying to impress on her the importance of what he was saying.

“Are you afraid?” Hermione asked him, her eyes penetrating his. If he did not know any better, he would think she was trying to read his mind.

“For you, yes. Hermione, I am not a nice man, I have many enemies. I have built a life where few are welcome. You are welcome in that life, but you must wait. I must wait. We cannot seek to define something when you are so desperately in need of defining yourself. I will be the reason that you do not heal.” He gave her hand a squeeze, trying to be as transparent as he could.

He was not sending her away, he was not telling her that he didn’t want there to be something. He was telling her that it was better, at this time, to wait for it.

“Severus.” She tried to argue.

“Hermione, please, grant me this to speak openly with you. You are suffering from trauma that is fresh and raw, and has you afraid of your own shadow. I am currently exploring and trying to come to terms with my own past events that have shaped me into the man that I am. Together, as we are at this exact moment, would be a potion waiting to explode. We are unrefined ingredients.”

He tried to explain it to her in a way that would make sense to her and that he could easily express his feelings.

She drew her hand back from him, still staring him down. “Are you saying that you don’t want whatever this is to happen?”

He shook his head, his hand returning to the space between them in case she sought it. “On the contrary, I am of the highest hopes that it does happen. But I want it to be beneficial to us both. Right now, you need to defeat this demon of a hearing and get your divorce. From there, we can take whatever steps are needed. Have I made my view clear? Or do you need more?”

“I think so.” Her face dropped, and she turned to the fireplace, the fire dancing along the curves of her face.

He asked, leaning toward her. “Are you disappointed.”

“I think so, but I can’t tell, with everything else.”

“Hermione.” He wanted to make all her worries fade away. He wanted the secret to solving every one of her woes.

Hermione stood, moving from him. She rubbed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, catching on a tangle. “Severus, I understand. I need to get ready, or I will be late.”

  
“Do you wish to use my lavatory?” He offered, gesturing in the direction of it.

Hermione crossed her arms, moving to get her glasses from his desk. “No, I don’t wish to entangle you more than I have.”

“Hermione, that is not how I intended you to take that.” He said, standing now.

“Severus, then how am I supposed to take it.” She snapped back, turning on him.

He stepped closer to her, so close that if he made the leap, he could kiss her again. “That I want you more than you can possibly imagine, you daft woman, but that there are things we cannot control in the way of that.”

“Is it just that you don’t want this because I am married.” She whispered, her not so attractive morning breath wafting over his face.

“Hermione, do you know what having an extra-marital affair, even if it is not sexual in nature, can do to your case?” 

“I don’t- oh-” It seemed to dawn on her that this had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the situation she was in.

“Exactly. You will be on his level. Do you think I want to be on the same level as Maria Anadora?” Severus spit the name of his former colleague. The fact that he had considered her amiable was ancient history to him now.

“I didn’t - It seems I am messing everything up.” Hermione frowned, looking at the floor between them.

Severus tucked his finger under her chin, lifting her to look at him. “No, you are just overwhelmed and attacked and think that everything is against you.”

“Maybe. But you aren’t, are you?” She asked with a sense of hopefulness that he could not deny.

“I am not your enemy.”

She smiled at him, leaning her forehead against his sore chin. “Good, I don’t think I could handle that.”

Severus enveloped her in a hug, which she succumbed to. He held her, trying to impress with his touch that he was there for her. This had made his mind up about several things, and he would have to take action.

“Would you like to use the lavatory?” He asked again, this time whispering into her hair.

“If you don’t mind.” She replied, and he smiled.

He let her go, pointing her directions. “Through the bedroom, the door is open.”

“Thank you, Severus.”

“My pleasure Hermione.”

* * *

  
Severus saw her off, this time with a kiss that he initiated.

She was both surprised and pleased, and he did not let her linger over much, or he would not be able to let her go.

When she went out the door, a bit more of a spring in her step, Severus sighed.

“You can come out of the shadows, Minerva.”

A feline stepped into the light, and he watched over his shoulder as it took the form of the Headmistress.

“I had not expected you would have heard me as a cat,” Minerva said, coming to stand next to him.

He snorted, shaking his head. “Are you a voyeur, or did I keep you from your goodbyes.”

“I had come to wish her well, but I did not wish to intrude,” Minerva said quietly, both of them still looking at the door that Hermione had just left.

The castle was quiet still, except for their conversation. “So, you stood back and watched me be a fool.”

“Being in love is not to be foolish.” Minerva chuckled in that all-knowing way that she’d developed over the years.

He looked at her firmly, tilting his head. “Minerva, please do not put words in my mouth.”

The tartan wearing woman stood to her full height, meeting his gaze with an implied threat. “If you deny that you love that woman, I will hex you myself.”

Severus knew that he needed to stop while he was head and not hurting. “I will say nothing on the matter.”

“That is acceptable.” She said, returning to the guise of a friendly grandmother and not a woman who could hold her own.

He did not speak for a moment as he tried to find a way to explain to Minerva what he needed to do. It would put undue stress on her and the school, but it was impossible for him to not do it.

“I have to leave the castle today.” He said quietly, expecting her to be shocked.

“I know. I’ve arranged for your class to have a study hall with Hermione’s.”

It was his turn to be shocked as he looked at her. “How did you know.”

“While I may not be able to read minds, like you Severus, I possess the ability to tell when someone is willing to fight for something. You have the look of a man who is going to war for his Helen.”

He nodded his head. Like the Trojan war, this had all the potential to backfire on him. “This may turn out poorly and reflect poorly on me.”

“What has Hogwarts not weathered, Severus?” Minerva said with a slightly morose tone. She was right, the castle and its reputation did not rest on his shoulders. 

He looked at her now, needing to make sure that she understood something clearly. “I will tell you, since you have the same senses as I in this castle, that nothing happened between us last night.”

“I assumed as much. You are a gentleman who moves like a scoundrel.” Minerva smiled, nodding her head.

Severus crossed his arms. “I will take that as a compliment.” 

“You better. Now, be off with you, I know you will want to be behind her.”

Severus shook his head, he had to prepare. “No, I have a few matters to attend to first. But I will not be available.”

He turned on his heel, heading for the dungeons.

“Severus.” She called, and he looked over his shoulder at her.

“I will tell you, as I told her. You know who you are. Do not let them make you doubt it. And do not let them doubt her.”

He nodded as he began to walk once more. “I will remember this, Headmistress.”

“And Severus.”

“Yes?” He tried to not sound like he was annoyed at her.

“Don’t mess this up.”

He sighed and gave her a mirthless chuckle. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”


	34. The First Trial : Test Your Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

Hermione found herself shaking at the front of 83-B.

It wasn’t a visible body rattling shake, but a quiet vibration tapping through her.

It was different than yesterday, where she had been confident that she’d prepared. Now she felt like she was going to be stuck in another quagmire of problems that she had not thought about or been equipped to handle.

She stared at the massive double door for much too long, and she knew that people were looking at her. There was much more traffic around this hall than usual, and she knew I had to be about today.

Squaring her shoulders, she pushed her way in. She had been early today, mostly because Severus would not let her linger with him. Only her lawyer and Molly’s defense was there. The dark-eyed man looked at her and gave her a bone-chilling smile. Hermione did not like the way he looked at her at all.

“Miss Granger, good morning?” Mr. Greengrass said, giving her a reassuring smile.

Hermione bowed her head to him before moving to her spot on the other side of him. “Good morning, sir.”

She wanted as much space as she could between her and that man.

Molly’s lawyer looked like he was otherworldly almost, like a predator. Hermione was unsettled by how he moved and how he spoke.

Everything in her made her want to be away from him. 

  
His dark eyes went from her back to her representative. “Yes, I do look forward to what you bring to the floor today, Greengrass. I was told it would be of most interest to my client and me.”

Mr. Greengrass seemed equally off-put by the man. “I am sure you do. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to confer with my client. Good luck to you, Harkness.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, you should know that. ‘Victory to the Just’.” That smile again, and Mr. Harkness lifted his hand toward his representative.

“’ Victory to the Just.’” Mr. Greengrass nodded before turning away from.

Hermione observed the man slide across the room, taking a seat at the table.

  
“Hello my dear, I am sorry, He had wanted to get an idea of what new evidence I had said we would be bringing to the court. We are bringing new evidence, aren’t we, Miss. Granger?” He asked her in hushed tones, taking a seat next to her.

He had a look on his face as if he had not slept very well, and she assumed he likely hadn’t poured over the defense’s evidence.

“Ginny should be here soon. We- she took photos of my body. We have documentation of my scars.” Hermione whispered, her arm coming over to hold her elbow.

She felt vulnerable, even knowing that the photos existed, let alone that they would be here.

“And Mr. Snape?” He asked eagerly, hopefully raising his eyebrows.

Hermione shook her head, looking at the pattern on the wooden table. “I didn’t ask him. I know he won’t come. I have to do this without him.”

“You know that he is the only witness that cannot be discredited in having seen the abuse.” There was disappointment in the older man's voice.

“Mr. Greengrass, have you ever met Severus, personally?” Hermione challenged, looking at him. 

“I have. I’ve represented him before.”

That made sense to her. “Then, you know, Severus will not do what he does not wish. I was not about to force him into it.”

Anyone who had every met Severus had to know that there was no forcing him to do anything. He wanted to do it, or he was manipulated into it, and he would then take vengeance. Hermione had no desire to be the object of such vengeance, and so she did not push the issue.

Thinking of him did bring a smile to her face as she thought of how he had comforted her. Even if they did not know what they were at this time, there was still 'them'. He seemed to hold her at arm’s length still, and that bothered her, but he had made a good point. Hermione would never want him painted in the same light as Maria.

“You seem to have a bit more wind beneath your wings today, Miss. Granger.” Her lawyer commented, and she stole away from her thoughts, shaking her head.

“I don’t think so, it’s jitters, more than anything else.”

  
There was a quiet pause, and then Molly and Arthur entered the room. Arthur did not look at her, even as Molly glared, and he seemed pensive and quiet. It was not how the man typically carried himself, but she was sure that he was likely too upset over the whole ordeal. 

To have the knowledge that his child killed his grandchild, had to be very hard for him. She only wished that he would voice if he believed her or not. But then again, he had to go home with Molly, so she could forgive his silence.

  
“Have you heard word from St. Mungos?” Hermione asked, the pressure to know about her son too much to hold silent about. 

Mr. Greengrass looked up from the form that he was read, shaking his head. “I have not madam, I thought they would contact you.”

“They have not.”

Worry set into her face, the fear that something would happen to her child’s body bursting into full bloom. She closed her eyes, trying to disguise the incoming tears. In her heart, she knew that something was wrong, something had gone wrong.

_Why else would the Judge have been so adamant that she let him go with that woman_? 

“Do not fret, I know that these tests can take some time. If we do not hear anything today, we will put in a petition to get the information, and your child’s body returned.” Her representative touched her hand, and she jumped, her eyes open with wet rims.

“Today is the evidence deadline.” Hermione tried to not cry, reaching up and cleaning her glasses.

He offered her a handkerchief, seeing her distress. “I know that, Miss. Granger.”

“Did you expect it would be this difficult?” She found herself asking him as she used the cloth to wipe her face and her glasses.

He shook his head, turning back to the papers. Their voices were low, as were the voices on the other side of the room. “No madam, but I expected a fairer judge as well. It seems that I have to actually earn my retainer. Now, concerns or questions?”

“How do we get on his good side?” It was a long shot, but maybe there was a chance for them to pull ahead of this shitshow.

The expression on the old man’s face told her the prospects were not good. “Be born to old blood, have a lot of money, and not be a woman.”

“Ah, so I have no chance.” She signed, looking at her hands.

“My dear, you have the evidence, and it will be on them now to provide the burden of proof that it did not happen. Sit tight and have some tea.”

He flicked his wrist, a teacup appearing next to his with steaming liquid in it. Hermione reached for it, running her wand over it first to check it and then taking a sip.

“I can do that.”

The tea made her feel warm, from her brow to her toes. It settled over her like a soft, warm blanket, and she enjoyed it. Closing her eyes, she could taste something exotic in it, but her wand had shown no poisons or additives. Whatever the blend was, it made her feel calmer.

Most of the defense arrived before her witnesses. 

  
Even the three women from Secluded Delights returned, which Hermione had been sure that the Judge had scared them off. Draco had walked in behind them, looking as much as an extravagant pure-blood as he had the day before. Hermione wondered if it was to help her case, or because he had a chance to get out and look his best.

It was Rita Skeeter’s entrance that caught Hermione’s attention. She entered with Maria at her side, her arm guiding the heavily pregnant woman to her seat. The man who was with them before was there and sat next to Maria and smiled at Rita.

“No Severus Snape today, Mrs. Granger-Weasley?” Her shrill voice called, and Hermione took a sharp breath through her nose, considering her words very carefully.

She leveled a bored stare at her. “Why on earth would he be here? He has a job to do, you know that, right? I mean, you might have forgotten what that was like since you’ve lost yours, but some of us still have important things to do.”

“You can’t hurt me with your words, you little tart, I know all about your sordid affair with him that has been going on since you nursed him back to health.” Rita humored herself, her green quill rapidly scratching against the parchment behind her shoulders. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling better all of a sudden. She took another drink of her tea and let it warm her before she leveled her gaze at the beetle eyes woman.

“I’m sure you do, Rita. Don’t you have someone else to bother? Why are you even here?” She questioned, turning in her chair so that she could show the woman how unimpressed she was.

Rita gave a saccharine smile, her hand on her hip as she shook her hand at her. “It seems you don’t listen well, do you, Hermione. I’m here because of your slander and abuse of my niece. Surely you knew that the Skeeters and the Anadoras are related.”

  
Something clicked. The articles were getting information from Anadora. That is how they had found her and how they had been able to talk about details that only someone close to Hermione would have known. This whole time, even before Hermione had left her home, she’d been being spied on. It made sense as to why she was always a target for the woman.

Hermione did her best to look like she was not shocked. “I did not. It doesn’t surprise me, you seem very much the same, with your dodgy ways and your insect-like nature to buzz around when you are unwelcome.”

It was Molly who stood now, pointing and screeching. “You harlot, how dare you, after what you have done to my son, will not abuse this poor woman more.”

Another drink of her tea and her gut told her to not answer the woman, to not give her the satisfaction. She passed her eyes over the red-headed woman as if she were the scum of the earth and looked back at Skeeter.

“As I was saying, Rita, it makes perfect sense now. I hope you have fun with the story you are writing, everyone loves a good fantasy every now and again.”

She laughed, the woman going red at her insult.

Whatever tea this was, it made her feel like her fear was going.

Her head was clear, and she could almost sense what she was supposed to be doing.

It was not a negative feeling.

“Miss. Granger.” Mr. Greengrass said, giving her a knowing look.

Hermione turned in her chair, facing forward again and drained the last drops of the tea from the cup. “My apologies. Seems the tea has woken me more than I expected.”

  
The door opened again, and this time Hermione turned to see Ginny walking in flustered.

She had a file in her arm, and her wand tucked into her hair. It looked as if she had run here and had barely stopped to open the door.

“Mione. Sorry, Lily made a mess, and I had to change again. Here, all together and ready.” Ginny explained, handing her the envelope. 

She knew it was the photos.

Hermione felt uneasy holding them, but she did not feel afraid.

Hermione hugged her, giving her a squeeze. “Thank you, Ginny, you are the best.” 

“I cannot believe you have turned my own flesh and blood against her own brother. You were always the problem, you wanted to drive this family apart from the beginning.” Molly hollered, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

Ginny looked at her mother, acting like an overgrown child and back to Hermione. “Has she been on a roll all morning.”

“No, just since I told off Skeeter and her niece,” Hermione explained, giving a shrug and smile.

Ginny squeezed her shoulder with a bright grin. “That’s my Hermione. We got this.”

“I hope so, Ginny.” Hermione offered.

Everyone settled into their spaces, Draco speaking in hushed whispers with his staff members and Ginny and George watching across the room. 

Ron looked still sickly pale, even though he’d not spent the night in Azkaban. She tried to not think about it, letting the warmth that sat in her stomach keep her calm. 

Hermione had half a mind to ask what kind of tea she’d been given, but she also had an inkling that she did not want to know. 

“Presenting, the honorable Judge Antonius. Please take your seats.” The Auror offered, and Hermione sat in her seat, braced for the worst.

The same ugly squished looking man in plum robes climbed the bench and took his position. He did not look like he was happy to be there.

Hermione understood, she wasn’t happy to be in his presence either. 

“It seems this is the last day of pre-trial for the Granger-Weasley Divorce. Have either side more evidence to present?”

“Yes, your honor, the plaintiff does.”

“As does the defense.”

“As the plaintiff went first, I shall allow the defense the luxury this morning. Harkness, please present your evidence.”

“The other side will have you believe that my client is a gambler and a cheater. I have here proof that my client’s wife also had a spending issue. You will see the detailed accounts from several merchants. These are large repeat purchases that my client had to work incredibly hard to pay for. It is a wonder she did not drive them into debt sooner.”

Hermione’s eyebrow rose, and she leaned into Mr. Greengrass’s ear. “I have no idea what he is talking about, can you get more information.”

“Your honor, since we have clear and succinct in our discussion of Mr. Weasley’s finances, my client would like more clarification on the nature of these supposed purchases.”

“Agreed, I am most interested.”

“Flourish and Blotts is the primary, all from five years ago until now. What on earth could someone need to spend this much money there for?”

Hermione could not help but chuckle, shaking her head. “Has he never heard of books. I am an avid reader and collector. Have they looked at Ron’s Quidditch purchases?”

“My client says that they are for her book collection and that she spent far less than Mr. Weasley on his Quidditch collection.” My Greengrass offered.

“What woman needs that many books? This is the same cost as my wife’s tailoring bill for the year.” Mr. Harkness exclaimed, slapping the form in front of him.

Hermione gasped, looking at her lawyer. “Honestly.”

“They are scrambling for something, let it be.” Mr. Greengrass asked her for patience. “Your Honor, my client is known as the Brightest Witch of her Age, is it really so ludicrous that she desire books?”

  
The Judge gave Hermione a withering glare and then looked at her representative. “True, but it still shall be accepted into evidence.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Mr. Harkness said, a smile on his face as he looked toward their table. Hermione did not like his smile. 

“Have you anything else?” The Judge asked, folding his hands in front of him as he looked at the defense.

The tall man picked up another pile of forms, waving them before handing them to the Auror. “Maria Anadora’s medical records, showing that she suffered injuries at the hands of Mrs.Granger-Weasley’s cohorts at Mr. Weasley’s arrest at Hogwarts.”

“What does this have to do with the case.” Mr. Greengrass objected, standing to his feet.

  
Harkness turned on their table, moving in front of it and leaning down. He was looking right into Hermione’s eyes as he spoke, and she felt muted touches of fear. Like something was pushing on the warmth in her from the tea. “Your client states that the woman is carrying an illegitimate child of her husband’s. She has also ‘lost’ a child of her own. It shows that Mrs. Granger Weasley has no respect for the unborn and would do anything to get rid of the woman that she sees as a threat to her control over Mr. Weasley.”

“Your Honor!” Mr. Greengrass shouted, leaning into Harkness’s space.

Hermione felt like something had crawled up her spine shook her.

The Judge interjected. “I will allow it.”

Harkness backed up, a feral grin on his face. Surely she wasn’t the only one who saw it, and she turned, looking at Ginny. Ginny had her hand on her wand, her eyes fixed on the man as if she were ready to attack if he made so much as another move toward Hermione.

“Anything else.” The Judge asked, breaking the tension.

A curl of lips over white teeth. “No, your honor, thank you.”

Mr. Harkness slid to his table, taking a seat next to Ron.

  
Judge Antionus shuffled the forms in front of him for a moment. Hermione took that time to catch her breath and try to think of why she felt the way she did about that man.

“Plaintiff, what do you have for the courts today.” The Judge asked as if it were an annoying afterthought.

Hermione took the folder in front of her and passed it to her lawyer. She leaned in with a whisper. “Here are the photos of my scars.”

Mr. Greengrass looked at her with concern before looking at the man who sat in the high seat. “My Honor, we present photos of the client's scars, as requested from you for proof of the abuse.”

“Hand them here.”

The folder was handed to the Auror, who checked then before offering them to the Judge. He sat there, flicking through them, his face growing grim. He did not speak for several minutes, looking at each photo with scrutiny.

After those tense moments, he looked at Hermione. “Hmm, I see. Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I have some questions, please step forward.”

She stood, the well of courage still sitting calmly in her core. Walking to the chair in the center of the room, she took a seat, looking up at the man. He did not look pleased with her. 

“Yes, your honor.”

He flipped a photo over, looking at Ginny’s notes on the back. “You fought in the battle of Hogwarts, did you not.”

“I did. We won.” She said with pride, her chin up.

“Hmph. And you were injured at the battle?”

Hermione tilted her head, curious as to where he was going with this. “Minorly.”

“Enough to leave scarring?”

“A few.”

He seemed to smile at this, setting the photos down and towering over her. 

“So, Madam, how do I know that these are not wounds from that battle that you are passing off as wounds from your husband.”

“Your honor?” Hermione asked, feeling that courage bubble and boil as anger slipped into the brew.

He looked down at her.“Yes.”

Hermione adjusted her glasses before she met his gaze with equal disdain. “Why would a death eater burn Ronald Bilius Weasley into my lower back?”

He sputtered and looked through the photos again, seeming to find what she was speaking about. “I do not know Mrs. Granger-Weasley, but how do I know you did not have it done to you to implicate your husband in abuse. When were these taken?”

She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew that he’d been caught off guard. She didn’t feel anger anymore at his questions.

“Last night.” It short and to the point.

“By whom.”

“My sister in law, Ginny Weasley.”

He looked across the room at Ginny, disdain heavy in his tone. “Who is also your witness.”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone see him give you any of these marks.” He flipped one of the images so that it could be seen by the room.

It was a slice across her shoulders. Christmas, 97. He’d pushed her down in the kitchen, and she caught the edge of the knife she’d been trying to cut ingredients with. It had been just them, as they hadn’t left for the burrow yet.

“No, your honor.” She breathed.

Another pleased smile, the man sitting back in his chair. “Then how are these any better than hearsay?”

“Because they are proof of what I have been through.” She argued.

“But you have no witnesses.”

“You said evidence or a witness.” Hermione reminded him, looking as if he had broken a rule in his classroom.

“And this is not evidence. If someone here can say, under oath, that they have seen Mr. Weasley hit you, then I will allow them, until then, these are worthless.”

She clenched her fists, standing up defiantly. “Very well.”

“Have you anything else?” Judge Antonius asked, looking at Greengrass.

Her lawyer looked over the forms, searching for something. “We are waiting for the results from St. Mungo’s.”

“Ah, yes, well, are they here yet?” The Judge looked across the room.

Hermione looked as well, and there was no one there from the hospital. The woman who had taken her son was nowhere to be seen. “No.”

Harkness stood up, making an objection to waiting. “Your honor, I feel like this is an attempt to wastes the court's precious time on something that has little meaning to the court.”

“I object, as the weight of this evidence can prove that my client was pregnant and was induced into a miscarriage by violence.” Mr. Greengrass was on the defensive now, both hands pressed into the dark wood of the table.

The Judge looked to his Auror and then down at the two representatives. He finally set his gaze on hers. “Mr. Greengrass, you know as well as I that St. Mungo’s is not known for their promptness. If the proof is not here, I will not accept it.”

The double doors were kicked open. A woman in a long black cloak, hood pulled up, stormed into the room, closing the door behind her. She was carrying something wrapped in her arms in bright blue. She was impossibly tall but had all the curves that made her obviously female.

“Ah, finally. You know, there are far too many people out there for such a ‘private’ case.” The woman thundered, the hood looking around the room.

Harkness was the first to speak up. “Excuse me, this is a private hearing, the public is not allowed.”

The hood looked at him, and she heard a chuckled. Hermione was not sure who this hooded woman was, but she seemed utterly unphased that she had just barged into a courtroom. The woman looked at her, and Hermione could see a sharp chin and nude lips curved into a smile.

The woman marched up to her and kneeled in front of her chair. “Mrs. Granger-Weasley?”

“Ah, yes, that is me.” Hermione did not recognize the voice.

“Here is your son. It is with the deepest depth of condolences that I return him to you.” The woman offered over the bundle, and Hermione realized, it was the box her son was in. She clutched it to her chest, like her most precious treasure as she listened to the woman.

“Thank you.” Hermione breathed, holding the box that had been swaddled like a child to her chest. She had Alexander, she would be able to put him to rest again.

The Judge was standing now, bellowing as he pointed at the woman. “Are you from St. Mungos? Remove your hood woman.”

Hermione saw a grin as the woman turned. 

She reached up and pulled back her hood. Brown hair was braided down her back, and she wore bright green robes under the black cloak. She had stern features as she took off her mantle, wrapping it over her arm. She leaned on Hermione and Mr. Greengrass’s table with one hand, the other on her hip with her cloak over her wrist.

“Now now, Xaviar, is that any way to talk to me?” The woman asked, a tinkle of laugher in her voice.

There was an immediate change in the man’s behavior. He sat down, folding his hands. 

Obviously, this woman knew him, as she spoke to him on a first-name basis. Was this about to be something to her advantage? Hermione was curious and listened carefully.

“Mrs. Shade, I was not expecting you.” He stumbled over his words, looking between the Auror and the woman.

She made another sound that seemed like an amused hum.

“I am sure of it. Are you Mrs. Granger-Weasley's lawyer?” She spoke to Mr. Greengrass now, her hand still on the desk.

He nodded, looking up at the tall, lithe woman. “I am, madam.”

She reached into one of the pockets of her mediwitch robes and pulled out a file. She set it in front of Mr. Greengrass. “Here is your inventory of injuries to the child.”

The Judge spoke again, seemingly having reclaimed his control over his emotions. “I am surprised at the speed at which this was processed, Mrs. Shade.”

“That does not surprise me. Fortunately for you, when I heard that you were presiding over the case, I thought I might lend my expertise.” Mrs. Shade offered her hand sweeping in motion across the room.

He nodded at her. “I see, well, you have given esteem to your profession with your expeditious work.”

  
It sounded like a dismissal, but the woman did not move; instead, she looked at her nails for a moment. “You are going to need to swear me in, Xaviar.”

The Judge’s eyes went to the size of small saucers for a moment. “I beg your pardon.”

Mrs. Shade stood from her leaning position, bowing profoundly before the Judge. “I submit myself as an expert witness in this case regarding what I discovered about this child.”

His face seemed to turn a shade of red as if he were angry about this prospect. “You cannot come in here and submit yourself without either the plaintiff or defense inviting you.”

  
The pool of courage made her feel like this woman was the difference between winning and losing. “Invite her now!” Hermione said to her lawyer with urgency.

Mr. Greengrass was already on his way to stand up. “Mrs. Shade is more than welcome to testify at my client’s behest.”

The woman looked at her with olive-colored eyes and gave her a wink before turning back to the Judge. ”See, I am invited. Shall we get this over with?”

“Very well, your wand Mrs. Shade.” The Judge sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Mrs. Shade did not even need to be told the oath to repeat it. It seemed she’s done this before. “Of course. I do solemnly and sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I swear that all of my opinions are given within my expertise and are not speculation but based on verifiable evidence.”

She was gestured to the chair, and she sat like a queen taking a throne. 

“How is the wife, have the potions been working for you?” Her tone was pleasant and conversational.

The Judge seemed like he was ready to explode as he sputtered out at her. “We are not here to discuss me, Mrs. Shade. For the record, since you are an expert witness, please state your name, profession, and expertise concerning the case.”

She shook her head as if she were disappointed in the Judge, making a small huff.

“Artimis Terpsichore Shade, Head Healer and Supervisor for St. Mungo’s, My expertise comes from my study in advanced midwifery, wizarding reproductive issues, and as you know, your honor, infertility concerns.”

There was a wash of silence in the room. Hermione knew at that moment that whatever divine had been listening, had heard her prayer.

“Mrs. Shade.” The Judge growled lowly.

Just as sweet as can be, she replied to him. “Yes, your honor.”

“Your cheek will make you no friends.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I shall be sure to tell your wife that when I see her next week.”

“Mrs. Shade. Please address the courts with your concerns.” It is evident that he was trying to take control of his courtroom. Whoever this woman was, she had turned him on his head, and he was no longer acting like the bastard he’d been the whole time.

Mrs. Shade, or Artimis, as she had named herself, began to speak. Her tone was even, professional and had none of the playful mirth that she’d used moments before. “I was allowed to conduct a full range of examinations on the corpse of the child of Mrs. Granger-Weasley. The parentage test provided proved that this is the child of this woman and was sired by a Ronald Weasley. The test was run by two healers in addition to myself to provide that there was no tampering of the evidence.”

There was a look between Harkness and the Judge. “I see, so the child was Mr. Weasley’s.”

The woman nodded. “Correct.”

“Thank you.” The tone was dismissive again.

“I am not done, Xaviar.” The woman growled now as if she were some great beast giving a child a warning before she struck.

“Ah, please continue, Mrs. Shade.”

The testimony continued in the same measured tone. “This fetus suffered from several ruptures that were not the result of decay. The body was in excellent condition in terms of decay, which we were able to determine was the result of preservation spells places on it’s resting place. This child was aged to be 22 weeks old, 7 days.”

Hermione took in a breath, she didn’t know that she was almost 23 weeks. She had thought that she was only 21 weeks when it had all happened. She’d been pregnant longer than she’d known by nearly three weeks.

The woman continued.

“The cause of death is what brought me to this case. It suffered from a ruptured ribcage, and its femur was completely shattered. Do you know what kinds of injuries have to happen to a child for that kind of death?”

“No, I do not.” The Judge quipped back, obviously not pleased that he was not able to cow this woman. Hermione wanted to know who she was and why the Judge was nervous around her. 

“Allow me to educate you. This child still had amniotic fluids in its lungs. It never took a breath of air. It was killed in the womb, and since the woman who bore it is not also dead, that means it was not a result of nature. No, these kinds of injuries come from impact. Repeated impact. And since the femur is broken upward and the ribcage is crushed downward, I’d say someone had to be standing on top of the mother, hitting her with something very hard to cause it.”

Hermione felt the pain as it was described so clinically. Her chest heaved, and she squeezed the box to her.

It wasn’t as intense as it had been before, as if she were being held aloft.

Hermione felt as if she had artificial bravery for a moment because, under it, there was fear and pain.

But right now, it didn’t hurt.

“What do you know about this case, Mrs. Shade.” The Judge inquired.

She wavered her hand nonchalantly as if she were dismissing someone beneath her. “What had been in the papers mostly, but I am a busy woman, so I don’t pay much heed.”

“Do you know either the plaintiff or the defense personally?”

Hermione found herself shaking her head; she’d never seen the woman before this. 

“No, your honor. I am here because this is a matter that we are required to report. I am here because of my duty and my oath to my profession.”

Hermione could hear the defense grumbling, Molly whispering something to their lawyer, who shook his head and waved her hand for her to quiet down. 

Maria was glaring daggers at her, and Hermione gave her a resigned smile.

Rita Skeeter’s quill seemed to be racing across the page.

Arthur made no reaction, and Ron was looking at his hands.

Hermione’s attention was drawn back to the conversation at hand.

“I see. So in your expert opinion, tell the court how you think this child died.” 

“Without having examined the mother, which I would like to request before the end of this day-” Artimis turned and looked at Hermione, giving her a serious expression before turning back to the Judge. “-I have to say that the mother was prone in a supine position, something brought down heavy and repeatedly at a sixty-degree angle from the mother’s pelvic bone. It would have to be quick and rapid strikes, to prevent the fat and fluid from saving protecting the child. The child was crushed between the object and the mother’s femur. It does not look like it was removed by a muggle Cesarean, and it has post mortis contraction bruising. Meaning it was vaginally delivered but was dead beforehand.”

Hermione felt her heart shake at the announcement. Alexander had been dead before she could do anything. The realization stunned her, and she had to lean back in her chair as she grappled with the news.

“In layman's terms?” The Judge seemed flustered, and as if he wanted her to just stop talking. The reporter for the court was trying to keep up with the woman as she offered facts.

Artimis Shade leaned forward in the chair as if she were about to discipline someone.

“Someone beat the hell out of the mother until she lost her child, likely passed out and had painful labor. It is my expert opinion that if I were able to examine Mrs. Granger Weasley that she has lasting damage from this kind of attack and subsequent labor. And since it is not uncommon at all for witches to hide miscarriages, I was not surprised when I found out that she was not listed in my patient list.”

The Judge was rubbing his forehead, obviously displeased with this turn of events and information.

“Very well. Anything else, Mrs. Shade.”

The mediwitch stood up, as if she were going to walk back to them, but stopped suddenly, her face tight and her lips thin. She put her hands on the back of the chair, leaning on it.

“Actually, yes, one more thing. The young man from my department who was originally working on this child had his memory tampered with. He was under the impression that he was to do the examination, throw away the documents, and cremate the body. I fear someone is trying to tamper with your court, Xaviar, and we know that could be bad for a reputation. I would look into it if I were you.”

Her tone was low and still, like a whisper over a calm lake.

“Is that so?” Judge Antonius asked, leaning forward, his beady eyes fixed on the woman.

“It is. My security is already looking into it. So if it is a member of my staff, they will be punished.” There was a threat in that tone, this woman was going to be sure to find out who did it.

“Very well. You are dismissed.” He waved her off, shaking his head.

She bowed again, dramatically, but did not walk away.

“Thank you, Xaviar, for being the example of fairness and honesty. You bring esteem to your position as well, with how you treat this case. Remember, the whole world is watching you, I cannot imagine how proud you are for this can do to your legacy.”

The energy between the two shifted. It was if a sword had been drawn and pointed, but neither had moved. The room was buzzing with some kind of energy, and Hermione was eager to know what this witch had on this Judge.

“Do I sense a threat, Mrs. Shade.” He whispered his hand on the end of the stand before him.

Hermione could see the woman smile from the side of her face. It was big and showed all of her teeth. “Never, your honor. Shades do not make threats. You know that.”

“Be seated.”

The woman made a hum and turned on her heels, gliding to sit on her side. Draco bowed his head at her, and she took a seat next to him, a pleased smile on her face.

  
“Your honor, my client has requested that we hold a recess to go over this new information,” Harkness asked.

There was no hesitation. “Granted, two hours.”

The Judge hurried out of there as if he had been chased by a monster.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley.” Mrs. Shade said, coming to Hermione’s side after the defense cleared out.

Hermione corrected her. “Please, Miss Granger.”

The woman smiled, nodding as she gently placed her hand on Hermione’s arm above where she held the box that held her son. “Oh, of course, Mrs. Granger. I would like to do an examination on you. I earnestly believe that you may have lingering health issues from what you suffered. I will be gentle and as least invasive as I can if you will permit me. I am invested in seeing that you get justice for your little boy.”

“I don’t know who you are, but Merlin above, who are you?” Hermione asked in amazement. 

It was the first time she thought she met a witch like this.

It was what she suspected Minerva was like when she was younger.

Maybe a touch more ’devil may care.’

Most witches were more subdued and seemed like they had a place under wizards.

This woman walked like no one was her equal.

“Sorry, of course, my name is Healer Artimis. I am in charge of the ward that deals with childbirth, conception, and all the other things that come with the reproductive system. I heard about your case from a friend of mine and had to offer my help once I’d seen what I did.”

“I- thank you for coming in at that moment,” Hermione said.

Healer Artimis nodded and pressed the issue again. “We have two hours, and I can easily conduct an examination in less than a half-hour.”

Hermione was nervous. She’d not seen anyone for medical reasons in years except her recent visit to get her glasses.

And Hermione didn’t know this woman.

Even if she swooped in like Nike as the battle turned, she could still wish her harm. “I- can Ginny come with me?”

The woman smiled brightly, leaning back on the balls of her feet. “Absolutely, you can bring who you need. We can floo to my ward, and we can be back before Xaviar has finished crying into his lunch.”

“You were brilliant.” It came out before Hermione overthought about it.

“You can’t let men like him treat you like you are less. He is afraid of me because I have proven time and time again that I am more capable than he can ever hope to be. He hates seeing me in a courtroom. It was part of the other reason I had to come. Nothing makes me feel better, like telling the soggy old bastard off.” It was said with such mirth and humor that Hermione could not stop herself from laughing with her.

“That explains a lot. Uh, can you give me a moment.” Hermione asked.

“Of course, I am here all day.”

“Ginny, I need you to come with me,” Hermione said, sliding up next to her sister-in-law.

Ginny turned to her, taking her hand in hers. “Please, for the love of all that is magic, tell me you agreed to let her examine you.”

Hermione nodded. “I did, but I don’t want to go alone.”

“Alright, let’s go.” Ginny was on her feet, ready to drag her off. Hermione clutched her son and was about to let Ginny drag her when Draco came up to her.

“Hermione, a moment.” A blonde boy said, giving her a look as if something had gone off.

She let go of Ginny and turned to him. “Of course, what is the matter.”

Draco lifted his cane in his hand at his side, shaking his head as he spoke. “I don’t know how you pulled that off, but you just brought the one woman from the one family that can put that bastard in his place. You know who she is, right?”

Hermione shook her head, not understanding why this was getting this response from Draco. “No idea Draco, she’s from the hospital.”

Draco looked like he’d been punched. Hermione knew the look, as she’d hit him before. His mouth was agape as he struggled to find words. “I can’t believe I know this, and you don’t. She’s the one trying to make the potion to help squibs get their magic back with bloodline magic. She’s top tier research at St. Mungos. They call her a supervisor, but she has nobody above her. Her bloodline is from Germany and pure. She is everything he can’t stand but can’t do a damn thing about.”

“Alright.” She nodded her head, understanding that this was important. She felt very calm for such a situation; she wondered if it was still the tea.

Draco sighed, rubbing his head. “Let me make this more apparent. You just brought the Viktor Krum of medicine to your backyard Quidditch game against a bunch of children.”

“Did you just try to explain something to me in Quidditch?” Hermione glared. 

“I suppose. Shade is big news. My mother adores her. If she says that you need an examination, then you better go with her Granger.” Draco urged.

Hermione raised her eyebrow and nodded like Draco was a babbling idiot. “I was planning on it. You sound like you are a big fan of hers.”

“My mother is. If she is your ally, then Ron doesn’t stand a chance.”

That made Hermione smile because maybe, just maybe, things were looking up.

* * *

The trip to the hospital was more natural than she’d expected. Healer Shade had donned her black hooded cloak again, moving through the crowd with ease. Hermione and Ginny had a few issues keeping up, but that she seemed to stop for them when it happened.

The healer had been right about how quickly she could get it done, but the news she brought was not what Hermione wanted to hear.

Ron had done so much damage, and there was so much scar tissue that it was unlikely that she would have another child naturally.

Since she did not get seen, everything had healed where it was, not where it was supposed to be.

It also explained why Hermione had cramps and pain worse now than she had before miscarrying.

Hermione returned to the courtroom with a heavy heart.

Ron hadn’t just taken Alexander, he’d destroyed any other chance for any future child she ever had.

The pain sat like a stone in her. Ginny had convinced her to take Alexander and leave him at her house in the study, so no one could disturb him.

Now she sat in her chair, looking at her hands and trying not to shake. Everything hurt and long gone was the pool of courage that had sat in her chest. She was sure she had cried it out.

  
Everyone but the Judge was back in the room, but Hermione could not lift her head. She felt too heavy.

  
The doors opened behind her, and Hermione did not lookup. It could have been anyone, but she just didn’t seem to care.

A quiet male voice seemed to clear and try to raise. ”Pardon me, I hate to intrude, but there was a threat placed on this room, and I was sent from my department to investigate. You all will have to stay in place until I am done.”

“Darling?” She heard Healer Shade say from her side, and Hermione looked up then, curious.

A thin, wiry man, with salt and pepper grey hair, stood at the door, looking at Mrs. Shade's smile.

“Darling? What are you doing here?” He asked, wringing his hands as he approached her.

Hermione watched the interaction as the woman got up to embrace him. “Working, as it seems you are.”

The man stopped her, holding his hands back. “Yes, well, sorry, love, but everyone must undergo a scan. Protocol.”

Hermione watched as the woman let the man run his wand up and down over her body, a white wisp covering her. It did not change any color. He then embraced her and gave her a kiss on her lips. She smiled and went back to her seat.

Hermione recognized it as the curse detection mist. It was something she’d read about years ago but had never seen it in use. Now she was interested in what was going on.

“What is the meaning of this, there is no threat here. Who are you.” Harkness seemed to snarl at the man.

He fixed his coat and stood taller. He was at least a head and half shorter than Healer Shade. “I am Shamus Connerie, from the Department of Mysteries. I have been sent here because the DMLE suspects that someone is trying to tamper with the room. It will only take a moment.”

“Well, be quick.” The dark man grumbled, taking a seat and looking displeased.

This seemed to confirm with the man that he could start.

“I shall start with this side of the room. It is a simple spell, just looking for something nasty that someone might have tried to slip in.”

He walked over toward her side of the room. Hermione watched as he checked each person in kind with the mist spell.  
“Yes, you are fine.”

“Madam, yes, you are fine.”

  
He came to her, giving her a professional smile. “Ma’am?”

She stood, feeling the spell run over her. It seemed to shift and change to a blue around her bracelet from Severus. He looked at it and cast a second spell, identifying the spell.

“Ah, yes, that is suitable. You are fine.”

“Now for this side of the room.” The man ambled through the room. 

“Ah, yes, Ma’am, your quill is quite rude, but not illegal.” He explained to Skeeter as the quill seemed to glow blue and crimson.

He continued through them, nothing sitting out. 

He cast the spell over Harkness, and it turned a silvery grey before going back to white. The man smiled, bowing his head. “Ah, ah, you make sense, sir.”

When he got to Arthur Weasley, the light swirled around his head, black and purple and red.

“Uh, oh. Mr. Weasley. Arthur, you have got a bad case there. I’m going to need to take you to get this removed.” Shamus Connerie offered, taking the man’s hand and lifting him to a standing position.

Molly seemed shocked and separated the man from her husband. “What are you on about, he is fine.”

The small man looked surprised and pushed the woman back with one hand as he pointed to Mr. Weasley. “Madam, your husband is under compulsion and disorienting jinxes, how on earth is he fine.”

“That is absurd. Arthur was fine this morning.” Molly scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Shamus nodded then, seemingly to placate the woman. “Ah, well, then someone got him on his way in.”

Molly stood like a puffed up chicken at that point and drew her wand, trying to get a hold of Arthur. “I’m telling you that you are wrong.”

“Madam, I would suggest you lower your wand before you discover who you are pointing it at.” The rush of power in the room was tangible as the man glared at Molly Weasley.

Hermione noticed that he wasn’t even responding to this. He was just blank and complacent, as he had been this whole time. _Had he been under someone’s spell this entire time?_

Molly seemed to falter back, sitting in her seat dejectedly. “I- ah. Oh, very well, I just, I think he is fine.”

“I’ll be back. Mr. Weasley, on with ya, let’s get ya fixed.”

Hermione watched as the man lead Arthur Weasley out. Healer Shade came to her side, leaning on the desk.

“That’s my husband. He’ll have Arthur right as rain before we know it. So don’t worry. Are you feeling alright, I know that news was not what you wanted.” The tall woman said, giving her a commiserating smile.

Hermione sighed, looking at her hands again. “I don’t know. I just want today to be over already.”

She was given a gentle pat on her should. “Well, we are nearly there, my dear, and my door is always open if you need resources, help, or talk.”

“Thank you.”

  
The Judge returned, and Hermione sat as they went over what he would accept from the morning and what he would now. Hermione still fell horrid and did her best to listen.

“Have another cup of tea.” Mr. Greengrass offered with a flick of his wand.

Hermione took and looked at him curiously. He gave her a smile, and he went back to listening to the Judge. 

Healer Shade testified a second time, talking about the injuries that Hermione had.

She hung her head in shame.

The tea had helped, it gave her back that warm pool in her stomach, but it did not cover the pain.

When the healer admitted to the courts that it was likely that she could never conceive again, she had to stifle a sob into her hand.

Ginny came up behind her and gave her a supportive hug.

“If no one else wishes to speak, we will call this the end of the pre-trial.” The Judge sighed. Artimis had danced all over his nerves, and it was apparent.

The door opened then, loudly.

“I have a lot to say.”

Hermione turned to see Arthur storming into the room. His face was red with anger, and he walked with his head tilted forward like he was going to plow headfirst through something.

  
“Arthur, come sit down.” Molly sighed, patting the seat next to her.

He pointed his finger in the air, yelling. “I will not Molly. How could you?”

Hermione was worried, Arthur never yelled, not like that.

“What are you talking about?” Molly said, and Hermione noticed that she looked nervous.

Arthur was still yelling, now pointing at Molly. “You knew that I was going to take Hermione’s side on this, so you decided that you needed to keep me calm and locked in my mind. Merlin, Molly, what are now, the Malfoy’s?”

“Hey?” Draco said, getting to his feet.

Arthur turned and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, no offense, trying to make a point.”

“Go on then.” Draco waved his cane, shaking his head.

  
Molly was standing, worrying her lip. “Arthur, you are confused, come sit down.”

He stomped and glared at her. “I am not. You knew what he was doing to the poor girl, and you said nothing. You said that it would get better that they just needed time. Merlin, Molly, have you been listening? I have, I haven’t been able to do anything but listen.”

“Arthur,” Molly said with a warning tone in it.

“Don’t you, Arthur me, Molly. You are wrong.”

Hermione stood up now, looking at her father-in-law. T

he warmth in her was urging her to seek more answers.

“Mr. Weasley, would you like to elaborate?”

Arthur turned around now, his face sad. His lips curled down, and his head tilted forward. He clasped his hands together at her as if he were begging her for forgiveness. “Hermione, my dear girl, I am sorry that I was not the father I should have been to my son. I am sorry that I did not do what I should have to protect you.”

“Mr. Weasley.” The Judge interrupted, looking annoyed.

Arthur stood up straight and squared his shoulders. “Your honor, I would like to testify to abuse that I witnessed with my own eyes from my son to this young woman.”

“Of course. Let’s swear in.”

Hermione could not believe her ears.

Apparently, at one of the Christmas parties, where Ron got drunk, and they had a row out in the garden, Arthur had seen Ron strike her.

It had been only once, and he never saw it again, but he had suspicions.

He’d talked to his wife, who’d told him not to worry, it was just a spat, and they were young.

She’d convinced him to let it go.

And then, when everything came out, and Arthur started voicing his concern again, he was silenced.

Molly had hexed her own husband. 

Molly was crying, and Hermione didn’t have it in her to feel pity for the woman.

When Arthur finished speaking, he came around to her side of the table, and he grabbed her up in a monster of a hug. He was crying as he did.

“My dear girl, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She managed to get out as she untangled herself from the man. 

She looked at Ginny, who came and got her father, pulling him to sit with her brother.

  
The Judge looked at the room and rubbed his forehead.

“If there are no more interruptions, then I will end this case.”

“Your honor, you will have to swear me in as well.”

Hermione looked around.

That was Severus’s voice.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

Then a ripple of light and magic and Hermione watched as Severus appeared in front of her, the invisibility cloak grasped in his hands.


	35. Bravery and Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start my new job tomorrow, so chapters will start coming at more of a delay. I will be posting as soon as I write, but it will be a bit more in between chapters, such as a day or so. So that everyone knows. <3

  
Severus never shit, showered, and shaved so fast in his life.

He’d thought he was fast during the war, but this was different.

There was something more at stake, and he could feel it.

He opened the floo and was surprised that Potter’s home opened to him without addressing who he was or any resistance.

_Either he knew he was coming, or he was far too trusting._

“Good Morning Severus.” Harry Potter said as he walked into the living room he’d been once before. The night that Ron had managed his first cheapshot.

“Yes, it may be. I have a request for you, and it would be in everyone’s best interest that you do not deny me.”

“I am listening,” Harry said, a cup of coffee in his hand. 

Severus did not have the time to question if the man was waiting there for him, or if it was some serendipity.

Time was running low, and he had many things to do.

“I need your invisibility cloak,” Severus demanded, holding his hand out.

Potter blanched, setting his coffee down and looking at him, confused. “I’m not so sure that’s a good-”

The clock continued to move, and Severus rose his voice, trying to impress upon the man the importance of this to his plans. “Potter, I am not going to argue with you about this. I need it. If I am to ensure that Hermione remains calm and safe and does not let that court harm her further, I need your cloak.”

“Sir, I am not a student,” Harry growled, and Severus could see it had the opposite effect than he desired on the younger man.

Severus would have to try a different approach. He lowered his voice. “Potter-”

Behind Harry Potter, his wife came down the stairs, a look of fury on her face. Severus felt a tinge of concern because he had not thought about the potential of waking children.

“HARRY JAMES POTTER! You give him your cloak, or so help me, Merlin, I will do it myself.” Ginny shouted at the bottom of the stairs, both her hands on her hips. For a small woman, she did look fearsome. He was for a moment, glad that he was not on the other end of that anger.

“Gin? I- uh-” Potter said, turning to look at his wife. The young man flicked his eyes between his wife and Severus before trying to argue with her.

The young spitfire pointed toward his office do, not even letting him start his protest.“You heard me. Go get it.”

Severus watched as the man-who-lived dropped his shoulders and looked at Severus with a look that was nothing but displeasure. “It seems I am outnumbered.”

“So it seems.”

Severus tried not to smile.

  
He waited, watching the clock move faster than he wished it would while Harry Potter went into his office. It was only a moment, but to Severus, it felt like hours.

His impatience knew no bounds at this moment. Potter came back, offering the silver material.

“Here, just, don’t lose it, it belonged to-”

Severus rolled his eyes. “-your father, trust me, Harry, I am aware.”

“Yeah, didn’t think about that,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his head.

Severus had never held the cloak in his hands, he didn’t expect it to feel so smooth, but he didn’t have much time to marvel.

“Obviously. Mrs. Potter, my thanks. I do ask you not to reveal that I am there this morning.” He said, looking at Ginerva as he moved toward the fireplace.

She gave an affirming nod, her hands still on her hips. “Understood, but don’t make me regret this.”

“I shall endeavor not to. Farewell.” He tucked the cloak over himself, disappearing from sight.

  
“Are you going to bring it back?” Harry said anxiously, and Severus sighed, grabbing floo powder.

He had no intention of keeping the cloak that had once belonged to his dead enemy.

“Of course, Potter.”

“Alright.” The young man said, with no more protest to follow.

Severus took himself to the Ministry of Magic.

It was somewhat different to walk around when no one could see him. He was very much used to people giving him a wide berth, and now he had to adjust to not walk into anyone and give away his cover.

His first stop was Shamus’s office. He unveiled himself before the desk, and the man laughed, leaning into his rickety chair.

“Not only do I get a long-overdue letter, but your very presence. This must be urgent, indeed.” The small older man said, grinning.

“Hello, Shamus.” Severus offered, standing behind the chair in front of him. He did not have time to sit, this needed to be quick.

“Hello Severus, what brings you to my madhouse.” Shamus Connerie said, gesturing to the room.

It was full of odd gadgets and things that would have the Office of Misuse spinning in their heads. Because of Shamus’s skill set, he had individual permissions to toy with muggle technology against it’s intended use. To Shamus, it was like being a child in a candy shop.

To Severus, it looked like a wizarding nightmare.

Shaking his head, he focused on the man. “I wanted to inform you that I will be present, but unseen in the courtroom today. Please do not give away my position.”

Shamus leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. Severus knew he would not be able to get away with a single request without being questioned today.

_When did it suddenly be acceptable for them to openly question his motives on things?_

“Are you here for a nefarious purpose.” It was a weighted question because it was by Shamus’s measure of nefarious, not the ministries. Severus knew there was a lot of wiggle room in that.

Severus shook his head. “I am not. I am here for personal reasons.”

Mr. Connerie relaxed, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. “Then we shall have no problem. I plan on doing a check after their first recess. Antonius needs a good whipping from my wife before I go in there.”

“Is she-” Severus began.

“On the warpath, yes. You know how to get a woman going, Severus.” There was laughter in his voice, and Severus could see the crude joke in the man’s eyes. It was too early for this nonsense.

Severus pinched his nose, trying to push away the innuendo. “I pray you never say that line in regards to your wife and myself ever again.”

“I was amused.” Shamus shrugged, still looking carefully as his chair leaned dangerously close to the floor. Severus quietly wished he’d end up on his arse for the joke.

“I’m sure. I must go.” He turned, pulling the cloak over him once more.

He made it to the door before Shamus spoke. “Severus.”

“Yes?” 

“What is really going on? Or is it cloak and daggers between us again?” There was a weary note to the man’s voice, and Severus knew what he was asking.

Severus and Shamus had a long working history, and they’d both kept each in the dark about a lot to protect themselves and others.

While this was different, it was more personal, and Severus did not want to involve the man any more than he had. 

If Shamus had an inkling of the care that he had for Hermione, he would be too much.

He would poke too much and investigate too much and potentially send this all careening back into Severus’s face.

“I don’t have the time or the words to properly articulate it right now.” He offered as a peace treaty.

Shamus seemed to accept it. “Go on.”

“My thanks.”

* * *

  
His hands were clammy, and there was a nagging twist in his stomach as he stood there, waiting for someone to come to open the door of 83-B. It was not the room that he’d been in when he was here, his trial was much more public and in the large ‘ _courtroom._ ’

That didn’t mean the sheer fact of being here didn’t make him sweat at the nape of his neck, and his heart rate flutter between fast and slow. The fact that he was also standing next to a door and having to ensure that no one walked into him made him more nervous.

Finally, Molly and Arthur Weasley came. He watched how the man acted strangely. He seemed despondent and distant. It was not a typical look for the often too enthusiastic Arthur. Molly held the door wide for Arthur, offering Severus ample space to walk past and enter the room.

He stepped to the side, taking a deep breath to still the jolt in his stomach. This was a different room, and it did not have the same dread built into the walls. It was not warm and inviting by any means, but it felt closer to his dungeons in the castle than the room of torture he remembered from before. Just thinking that he was near that room gave him a shudder running up his spine uncontrollably.

Hermione was sitting there, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Kendrick Greengrass offered her a handkerchief, and Severus was pleased that the man had that presence of mind to comfort her. He walked around the table, looking at how ashen and upset she looked. It made him ache for her relief of such pain.

Severus flicked his wand, making a note on the top of Kendrick’s notes in Severus’s script.

**‘Offer her a cup of tea. - SS’**

Mr. Greengrass did not even flinch or stumble in his conversation as he read the note.

There was a smile of understanding as he offered the woman a cup. Severus used his wand to replace the tea with the liquid in the vial at his side.

He’d been working on a few more things and had discovered a way to make panic puffs into a liquid form. Much easier to work with than the monstrosity of a solid form.

Once she’d begun drinking, Severus moved, taking up his post to her side, between the table and the wall, so that no one would accidentally walk into him and see everyone in the room.

It put him more at ease to have his back to a wall. From here, any assault would have to come from the front. The nerves were not abated, but he did not have such a need to run now that he saw her sitting. 

It was easier for Severus to focus on the fact that he was there to protect her than deal with the emotions of being there.

So Severus sat, and he watched. And waited. 

* * *

  
He’d had enough. Even with Artimis Shade there, who had done better than he could have imagined turning the tide of energy in the room, Severus was not happy where this was going. 

Hermione’s muffled sob at the notion that she would never have children again nearly had him in a rage murdering Ronald Weasley where he stood.

But he had to wait, he had to be patient.

This was not about him, this was about her, and he needed to be sure that he would not be a hindrance.

The moment that he thought he would be revealing himself was shunted as Arthur Weasley revealed his spouse's true nature. Severus was shocked and delighted that his suspicions on the matter were correct. He could not see Arthur Weasley as a man who could stand by this kind of behavior.

So Severus let the man speak and have his chance at unweaving the web that Molly had knit around her ‘perfect’ family.

He still had his suspicions on the reasons behind the woman’s motives, but he would not say anything until the right time.

Before he could let the apprehension take over him and keep him from doing what was right, it was Severus’s time to speak.

“Your honor, you will have to swear me in as well.” He offered, moving to stand between Hermione and the Judge.

He could see her looking around, her expression shocked, and there was something else in her eyes.

He looked at her as he drew Potter’s cloak off of him. 

Hermione looked at him with a look of gratitude.

He nodded his head politely.

  
It was the Judge who spoke now, his tone of displeasure back. Severus knew it it would be his response upon seeing him.

Xaviar Antonius and Severus Snape did not get along well, for many reasons. 

“ _Severus Snape_ , I did not expect you to make an appearance here in my court.” There was a sense of surprise there too.

Severus sneered, closing his hands in front of him. “And yet, here I am.”

He did not move from where he was, between the man and Hermione.

Even if she was in no direct danger, Severus would always view him as a threat. 

Antonius leaned forward, his head tilted to the side as he bore into Severus. “I am not sure I should swear you.”

“Are you denying me the right to testify?” Severus asked, keeping his voice to a smooth drawl.

They exchanged a look, and Severus rose his brow, his head moving just so in a challenge.

Severus had something worth fighting for this time, and Antonius did not have the power he once wielded.

“Do you even _have_ those rights, Snape?” He finally said, the room full of the tension between them.

Severus flexed his fingers under his palm, restraining the urge to hex the man where he stood. “You know I do, Antonius?”

He corrected him, not breaking the gaze. “ **Judge** Antonius.”

“ **Professor** Snape.” Severus had no issue returning the gauntlet that was thrown down.

If he wanted a fight, he would get it.

Severus was no longer the young man that had sat before him nearly twenty-four years ago.

Even with the bile in his throat and stomach-turning, he would not give the man the satisfaction of seeing fear in his eyes.

Not again.

“I see. Well, you do have your wand, do you not?” The plum dressed man asked, leaning back, but no less threatening.

Severus flicked it into his hand, holding it lowered. “They haven’t taken it from my cold dead hand yet.”

“You haven’t changed.” There was a lot implied there, and Severus let a ghost of a smile danced over his lip as he tilted his head.

“I am regretful to say that neither have you.”

The look the man gave him would have made a lesser man shrink. Severus simply looked bored.

“Your oath.”

Severus lifted his wand, reciting the oath after the man and feeling his magic respond to it. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but that was the easier of the issues. He’d yet to move from where he stood, and he was hesitant to do so.

Bravery and fear raged a quiet war within, the battle seated next to his beating heart.

  
“Please, be seated.” Antonius directed, and Severus took in a deep breath.

He walked forward, shoulders back, eyes scanning the chair that he was designated to sit in. He walked around it, taking it into account and ensuring that there would be no strapping with which he would be restrained.

“Is there a problem, _Professor Snape_.”

Severus did not look. Instead, he flicked his wand over the chair, attempting to disfigure the chair. It did notion but stay in place. “No, Judge Antonius. Simply making sure no nasty treats were awaiting me.”

“How unfortunate that the room is different from the last one we met in.”

Severus tilted his head, explicitly showing how he placed his wand into the holster at his wrist. He wanted to ensure that the man understood that Severus was not defenseless and not going to be backed down. “For whom.”

It was Artimis who spoke now, her voice snaking through the tension. “Xaviar, the world has its eyes on you. I don’t think it will like what it is seeing.”

Severus watched as the man sent a blazing glare in her direction. “Mrs. Shade, it is not your time to speak. Professor Snape, take a seat.”

Severus gave her a polite nod before taking his seat before the man.

  
Judge Antonius looked like a man on a warpath now, and Severus had expected it. His lips were drawn tight, his brow furrowed, and he now looked at Severus as if he were something to be dissected, broken into sections and destroyed. Severus knew the look as he’d given it before himself. He also knew that man before him struggled with his control, as he had not expected such a powerful cast to join the main characters of this play.

Severus was pleased that he’d made the right choice in involving Shade and Connerie.

  
A throat was cleared, and the Judge offered the opening to speak. “There. Now, what do you have to bring to this case.”

Severus did his best to relax in the seat. It was difficult, as he anticipated the moment when it would spring into action and restrain him.

There was a wave of nervous energy in him, waiting for the trap to spring. But still, with all this, he offered his testimony.

“I am a witness to abuse at the hands of Mr. Weasley on this woman. On both school property and public land. I also witnessed him attempt to murder her.”

The Judge flicked his eyes to the defense’s lawyer, and Severus tried to understand the look there.

Something passed between them.

“Is that so?”

“It is your honor.” Severus nodded, expression blank.

There was a hiss of warning in the Judge’s expression. “And you are capable of telling the truth under oath _this time_.”

Severus offered him not external response. “I was last time.”

“I’m sure we both know that isn’t true.”

“Old grudges die hard.” He issued a tone of nonchalance, which Severus could tell was getting under the man’s skin. 

“Yes, they do, Snape.”

  
They glared at each other for another moment, and Severus made sure that he was occluding everything but the utmost disdain for the man.

The other people in the room were non-existent at this point, all the focus between them.

“Shall I proceed?”

“Do as you will.”

  
Severus placed his hands in his lap, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth for a moment, gathering his well-planned thoughts up and ordering them.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley entered the employ of Hogwarts on the 21st of November. She had all the tells of suffering from some manner of trauma. She was jumpy, underweight, and withdrawn. If you knew the woman in her youth, those were the exact opposite of her disposition.” Severus gestured toward Hermione at his right shoulder. 

A sneer greeted him from the bench above him as Antonius leaned forward conspiratorially. “And how _well_ did you know her in her youth.”

“I was her professor for six out of her seven years. Her seventh year was waived due to her involvement in the War, and I was recovering.”

“That was not what I asked.” The biting reply came like a spiked whip, trying to entangle him and make him jump. 

Severus would not be baited. “Perhaps you should be more clear in your insinuations?”

“Was there _more_ than a professor/student relationship at that time, Severus?”

 _Ah, that was the angle he was looking for…_ Severus mused.

It didn’t surprise him, as this man thought him as the scum of society and why wouldn’t he try to paint him as some dirty older man taking advantage of a moldable young girl who was under his tutelage. Severus was sure it was something that someone of Xaviar’s bloodline would know about very well.

“There was not. In fact, Miss Granger was the most irritating pupil I had, and teaching her was akin to torture.” Severus unleashed, with his own biting tone.

“Something you know a bit about.” The quip hit across the jaw just as solid as an actual blow. 

Severus blocked back the memories of pain, willing his body to not react as he narrowed his eyes. “You made sure of that.”

A smirk, not made for pleasure, but to show dominance and aggression. “I did how times are different now.”

“As I said, in her first week, I witnessed the man on top of her, choking her during an argument outside,” Severus said, thinking of the event. It was easier than he would have liked to vividly bring it up, but he could still hear her yelling for him to get off of her. Severus was a fool than to not know that this was not a one-off event. 

“Why were you there while they were fighting?”

He shook his head, looking as if he had been asked the most idiotic question ever. “The castle had alerted me to an intruder, it is my duty to protect the school, and it’s occupants.”

“I see. What did you do when you saw this.” Antonius was looking for a hole to shred this to pieces. 

Severus would give him no such hold. “I interfered, getting him off of her and ejecting him from the castle grounds. I escorted her to the Headmistress so that she could decide how to handle it from there.”

  
“Why were no charges brought up _then_?” The Judge asked, looking from him to Hermione and then back. He sounded like he was blaming this whole proceeding on that lack of DMLE involvement.

“I was not a party to the discussion between the Headmistress and Mrs. Granger-Weasley.” Honesty is what he pushed to this man, making him hear it and hoping that he choked on the notion that it was Hermione’s fault that any of this happened.

“Why not.”

“ _As I said_ , it is my duty to protect the school, I still had rounds to do.”

“Proceed.” It was said in such a way that Severus knew that the Judge would rather him do anything but continue talking. 

Severus latched on to that sensation of pride in irritating him and continued. The memory of that Hogsmeade trip came to him quickly. He remembered the tension and how he failed even when he was so vigilant. It was a failure he swore he would never repeat. 

“The second time that I witnessed, Mr. Weasley put his hands on her was in Hogsmeade during a weekend excursion for the students. She and I were assigned to the day and were making rounds. I spotted Mr. Weasley, and we ended up in a duel in which he was able to disable me. He then snatched her in front of a large group of students and dragged her behind the confectionery.”

“How were you able to witness this, if you were disabled?” Antonius poked.

Severus let the pride in his voice swell. “Several of the students found me and released the spell, telling me what happened to my staff member.”

“ _Students_ were able to release you?” It seemed like it was the notion that the Judge could not believe.

Severus knew that he had no idea what these students had seen or been through. Severus himself barely knew, but he was proud of their quick thought and concern. While he had never made it public, he’d personally thanked them once she was recovered. If not for them, she would have been worse off.

“They were my seventh-year prefects.”

“Ah- it seems you _still_ need someone to come behind you and save the day.” It was another cut, this one across his gut. Severus felt it as if he’d been sliced. Even though it was just words, the poignant blossom of pain was there. 

Severus growled. “Or that there are still men who take cheapshots when they know they cannot win _fairly_.”

“I see. So what did you witness.”

His anger was brushed away with a hand. Xaviar knew he’d gotten to him with that one.

Severus would have to stay calm, or else he might ruin everything for her. 

“Mr. Weasley violently and viciously beating her. He’d struck her head against a wall before I had gotten there, with blood running down her face. He was hitting her from behind, yanking her hair and screaming. If I had not offered her an anti-apparation charm, he would have likely taken her and killed her.”

“Why would _you_ have offered such a thing.” There again, accusations and blame.

While admittedly, he didn’t offer it, it merely did it, the Judge did not need to know that there was not an agreement beforehand. It served the same purpose, either way. Hermione was afraid, and Severus was going to do what he needed to do to ease that.

“She expressed concerns for her safety, and as I have said before, it is my duty to provide for that.”

“I see. There were no other motivations?”

At that time, it had been duty. Severus still was grappling with the past and what had been done and his part in it. He strove to ease her suffering and protect her, but it was different from the protection he felt now. This was more powerful than that, so his motivations had changed.

But he wanted to know what Xaviar wished to know. “I am not sure that I follow you, your honor?”

  
“Did you have a _personal_ investment in protecting her.”

Severus smirked then, leaning more back into the chair. Most of his nerves had been replaced with the energy of aggression from the battle they were fighting.

“I did.”

There was a sound from the back of the room, and he knew that Rita Skeeter had begun to weave a tale with haste. 

“And what was that.”

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley saved my life. I owed it to her to help protect hers.” Severus explained, his palm up as he rolled his wrist.

“I see. Do you still have that life debt to her.”

He shook his head, a humph of disdain leaving him. “You misunderstand. Her debt was paid long ago, I am a man of honor, and even if there is no debt due, I still owed it to her to keep her safe from something that scared her so much.”

“I do not think honor, and you go _well_ together.” Another lash of the tongue, another bloom of pain. 

Severus glared, lifting his chin and showing no remorse for the open hate he expressed. “Perhaps it because we think of honor _differently_. Shall I go on?”

“Proceed.” His look was returned with the same vitriol.

Severus began to describe what the attack had done to her and how it had affected the school at large. “Her injuries were extensive from this, putting her unable to work in her position for several days.”

“And why was she not at St. Mungos?”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Because between Madame Pomfrey, myself, and the Headmistress, we were _more than capable_ of caring for her injuries.”

“I see. Continue.”

  
Severus grabbed the chair's arms at this point, drawing forth the memories that he’d rather forget. “The final time that Mr. Weasley touched her was when he beat her and threw her off the tower at Hogwarts.”

“Did you see him hit her.”

Severus had not, as he’d been too late to stop it from happening. He’d not been fast enough to save her from the pain.

“I did not. But I did see him throw her nearly unconscious body over the edge of that tower, intent on her death. I did see the injuries his attack did to her.”

  
The Judge smiled now, like a crocodile about to launch his strike against his prey. “And what of your attack, _Professor_?”

“My attack?” Severus paused.

“When you _brutalized_ the defense in retaliation.” The man gestured to where he knew that Ron Weasley was standing. 

Severus still wished they would have let him kill the man. Moreso now that he knew what lasting damage had been done to her. 

“As the Auror present would have told you, but you disallowed his testimony, I was enraged. I had very little control over my actions. As any _decent_ man would have been upon seeing what was done to her.” Severus explained, remembering how good it felt to hit the man.

“Are you a _decent_ man now? I find that hard to believe.” Severus wanted to hit the man in front of him now too. But he knew it wouldn’t have the same level of satisfaction.

Instead, he delivered his whip of a retort. “As much as I believe that you are _fair and just_.”

  
“Professor Snape, **do not** try my patience.” Judge Antonius warned with an ice-cold tone. 

Severus had gotten to him now, and it was a strike for a strike now. “Then perhaps you should not poke a _coiled snake_.”

Another tense moment of silence filled with promised threats, and barely sheathed teeth filled the room.

“So, you witnessed three separate attacks. Why did you not come forward _before_?”

Severus turned and looked at Hermione.

Hermione was watching him intently. He knew that she wanted to know why he was here now after he had told her no so many times before.

There was something in those dark honey eyes that stilled the tension, and Severus gave her a slight tip of the head.

He hoped that she could draw from that small motion that he was there for her and no other purpose.

No other unseen or unspoken of reason.

He was there because he knew that she needed him and he could not let her down.

Not now.

He returned his gaze upon the mishap of justice that was this Judge. He could feel the coil of his words in his mouth as he poised to strike back at the man trying to bring him to his proverbial knees.

“Because I did not realize that the courts no longer took _evidence without eyewitnesses_. I could not let what she has experienced go without _justice_.”

Antonius sputtered, leaning forward with a red face that told Severus that his words had hit the mark. “What do you know of justice.”

“A measure more than you, _your honor_.” Severus hummed, dark eyes fixed on the man.

The Judge took in a breath and closed his eyes. “Have you anything else to say.”

Severus nodded, even though he knew he wasn’t be looked at that moment. “Yes. Maria Anadora purposefully sought information from other staff members to feed to Mr. Weasley about Mrs. Granger-Weasley’s movements with the intent to let him cause her harm. It should be known that he did not act alone.”

“ **Speculation!** ” Judge Antonius spit out like acid to burn away Severus’s words.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the carefully curated and sealed statements from Neville and several other Hogwarts staff members.

He might have been able to disprove Severus, but there was no way he was going to unravel the words of the whole of the staff at Hogwarts. “No, I have signed statements for you.”

He passed the evidence to the Auror, standing there and then waited as he watched them be looked over. Each flip of a page showed a faltering resolve.

“Anything else.”

“No, your honor.” Severus stood to his full height. 

They met eyes once more, and Severus knew that whatever the battle had been, he’d won. He had not been cowed or broken. He’d not given more than was needed but gave just enough.

“Then go be seated.”

With a nod, Severus turned, moving to sit behind Hermione. He did not look at anyone else, his focus still on the man in the high seat. 

  
“With that, I call an end to this pre-trial. No more evidence shall be submitted at this time. Your trial date is set, and we shall reconvene then. You are dismissed.” Antonius said, standing and moving to leave the room.

Severus did not take his eyes off of him until he was out of the room.

“Severus, I did not expect you.” He looked up to see Artimis standing at his side in her brilliantly green robes.

He rose, taking her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. He owed her that formality at the very least for what she had done today. “Nor I, you. I suspect that St. Mungo’s needed to send an expert.”

“Yes, you know how I am about these kinds of cases. Near and dear to my heart.” She smiled, taking her hand back and placing it on his shoulder. 

Severus nodded, giving her a knowing look. “I do. Please, tell your husband that I expect an owl.”

“I shall. I must be off, who knows what has happened in my absence.” Artimis said, the same look running over her face. She was putting the act on to make sure that no one knew that he’d asked her to come. It made him proud.

“Until the next time, Madam Shade.” He bowed his head respectfully.

She patted his shoulder, walking around him and out of the room. “Until the next, Professor Snape.”

He turned now to Hermione, who was looking at him like she’d seen a phantom.

He stepped to her side, tilting his head down to her. 

“Would you like me to escort you back to the castle, or have you other plans.” It held the weight of formality, and he hoped that she did not take it poorly.

Hermione looked at him and then her hands. “I need to go to Harry’s to get my son.”

Severus had to swallow hard and not wrap her in the embrace that he desperately wanted.

He could hear the pain and see how saying those words made her frown.

“Do you require me? If not, I shall return to the castle. I would recommend that you bring him as well.” Severus urged, hoping that she would do as he asked of her.

“I-” Hermione’s eyes flashed across the room, and he could see that she’d landed them on the great green stain in the room. Rita Skeeter was watching with bated breath. “Ginny will be able to go with me. Thank you, Professor Snape.”

He straightened up and gave her space. “It was my pleasure, Professor Granger.”

“I shall see you at dinner in the great hall.” Hermione offered, nodding at him. 

  
He took that as his motion to leave, and he turned, walking toward the door.

Severus had his hand on the door when he heard her run up behind. He closed his eyes and waited for her to speak.

“Wait, Severus.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “Yes, Professor.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to come, and you did. I am grateful to you.” Her smile could have lit up the universe, and Severus schooled his face to not respond. They had an audience.

Severus looked at the door again. “It is as I said, I cannot standby and let your suffering be not rectified.”

He exited quickly and prayed that she was wise enough to understand the reason behind his distance. 

Severus went directly to the floo network, returning to Potter's living room. The man came into the room and looked at the cloak with relief.

“Thank you.” He said as he handed the cloak back to the man. 

Harry Potter held it to his chest, nodding. “Is she going to be okay.”

“He will give her the divorce to not see my face again,” Severus explained without telling him anything more than that.

Potter did not need to know the details of his past with the man.

Harry looked like he was concerned. “What did you do to him?”

“I did not back down.” He looked at the young man, his expression hard.

“Uh?”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is beyond your years, Potter. I have a request.”

  
Harry sighed and sat down in his chair, looking like he was not going to be pleased.

“Go on then.”

Severus clasped his hands behind his back and paced for a moment as he spoke. “Tell Hermione that she must bring her son’s body to Hogwarts.”

“Why?” It was a tone that showed a lack of trust.

He turned on the younger man, putting his hands on both sides of the chair and leaning in dangerously. “Potter, for once, can you not ask questions and understand that I have nothing but the best intentions for Hermione.”

Harry looked at him, his green eyes narrowing and searching for something on Severus’s face. Severus kept the same even stare, waiting for his response.

“I- okay. I will tell her.” He nodded finally, and Severus stood, fixing his robes. 

It was settled. “I have much to do.”

“Bye.”

Severus granted him a head nod and then took himself to Hogwarts, where he would wait for her to return to him.


	36. Summo Amore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> 'Summo Amore" means the greatest love

She could not believe it.

Hermione sat there in stunned silence as Severus gave his testimony.

He came.

He didn’t want to, he didn’t have to, but he came.

The pool of warm courage in her stomach was nothing compared to the roar of warmth that exploded from her chest, making her fingers tingle and the back of her neck flush.

Severus Snape had done something he didn’t want to do, willingly, for her.

  
Hermione watched with held breath as he challenged the man who had been tormenting her for two days. She bid her heart to beat quieter as it thundered against the silence. 

It made so much more sense to her as she listened to the exchange. This man had been one of Severus’s judges from before. Severus was facing someone who had obviously tortured him. Who had enjoyed it and wanted to make Severus squirm under it once more.

But Severus did not. He did not even seem to flinch.

The tension and hate-filled the room like a cloud of smoke, yet it was clear. No one said anything as the two men squared off. It was like there was a duel going on, but no one had raised their wands. Hermione had never witnessed such a battle before this, especially not with Severus as one of the combatants. 

Every exchange was like a volley of spells meant to hurt or defeat the opponent.

It was magic in its own form.

But Hermione could feel how important it was. It weighed down the room. Severus wasn’t just fighting to testify, he was fighting for her to be free of Ron with no more complications.

  
Only once before had someone fought for her freedom. In Malfoy Manor, when she was sure she would die, Ron and Harry had burst forth, sparing her. 

But this was different.

The emotion Hermione felt was a combination and mingle of many other things.

Hermione could not put her finger on it.

She sat, and she watched as Severus spoke her truth like he was a banner guard at the fore of an army.

Harry was right. Severus was the bravest man they had ever known.

Before she could even catch her breath, it was over.

The air cut clear of the pressure, and Severus was walking to sit behind her. 

She wanted to reach out to him, to thank him, to express the depth of the gratitude and emotion that she felt for him now. But Hermione was not ignorant of the fact that it would undo everything he had just done. So she held on to the emotions that had sprung a font of warmth in her chest and waited. Even with the pain and agony of the news she received today, Hermione did not feel like she was sinking into that abyss that eagerly awaited her.

  
The judged seemed more than eager to dismiss everyone, scurrying away like a vermin put under a bright light.

Hermione turned her head, watching how Severus stared the man down until he could no longer be seen. 

  
Before Hermione could speak, Healer Shade had caught his attention.

Severus offered her such casual yet formal engagement.

They spoke as if they knew each other well, and Artimis was not afraid of touching his shoulder.

Hermione felt an unexpected lash of jealously for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came.

It was more confusing than anything else. 

_Why am I jealous now…_ Hermione asked herself, trying to do an inventory of what could have caused that.

All she got back was the overwhelming emotional drain of the day and warmth in her chest.

  
While investigating the reason for her emotions, he had bid his farewell to Artimis and was looking at her.

She could not stop the awe and disbelief on her face as he moved to stand beside her.

He leaned his head down toward her, speaking lowly.

“Would you like me to escort you back to the castle, or have you other plans.” It was not Severus’s tone, but rather Professor Snape.

Hermione understood, even if the formal style made her feel sad.

Hermione wanted to go with him now and ask him a million questions, but she couldn’t.

Looking at her hands, she knew that she had to something far more critical.

Her heart played a sorrowful note because now she had to determine where she would put Alexander to rest. There was no way he was going back to that house.

“I need to go to Harry’s to get my son.” She whispered, the emotions fighting for control of her voice.

She heard him swallow. “Do you require me? If not, I shall return to the castle. I would recommend that you bring him as well.” 

Hermione looked up at him, trying to understand why Severus would want her to bring her son to the school.

His eyes showed her no answers, only a veiled pleading.

  
“I-” Hermione caught the movement of a quill over Severus’s shoulder.

Her eyes fixed on the woman who was watching with a smug smile, arms crossed.

Rita Skeeter was trying to make this into more of a moment than it was. ”-Ginny will be able to go with me. Thank you, Professor Snape.”

  
She regretted the distance as he stood and took a step back. His eyes had spotted the green menace as well, she was sure of it. “It was my pleasure, Professor Granger.”

“I shall see you at dinner in the great hall,” Hermione promised him, hoping he understood that she would be coming to the castle tonight looking for him.

He began to walk away, and Hermione looked at her lawyer, who had a small smile for her. He did not seem as tired or as worried as he had this morning.

With each of Severus’s steps away, she wanted to follow him. It was so contrary because at this moment she felt so many things.

There was the loss, there were pain and grief, happiness, and warmth, and if she thought long enough on it, love.

Hermione felt like a mental case bouncing between then.

But before she could stop her own feet, she was up, rushing to him. He had stopped, his hand on the door, obviously waiting for her to say something.

She took in a deep breath, wetting her lips as she pulled together the right words to convey what she needed to without embarrassing them both.

“Wait, Severus.”

He turned his head over his shoulder, his body was still intent on leaving. “Yes, Professor.”

  
Hermione smiled at him, a real smile. “Thank you, you didn’t have to come, and you did. I am grateful to you.”

His face remained unchanged as he turned from her to look at the door. “It is as I said, I cannot standby and let your suffering be not rectified.”

Part of her hurt from how cold he was. Even as she knew this was him protecting himself and her, it still hurt.

The smile fell only slightly, and she watched him leave before returning to the desk.

  
“Come on, Dad, you can stay in the guest room.” Ginny was saying as Hermione walked up to her and her father, Arthur Weasley. 

The man looked like he’d lived through another war. It broke her heart to think that he’d suffered because of her because he believed her.

“Yes, I think I will. Harry won’t mind, right, will he?” Arthur said, looking downtrodden.

Ginny hugged her father around his arms, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment. “No, dad, he will be happy to see you, as will the kids.”

“Ah, yes,” Arthur said, and then his eyes fell on Hermione. She could see guilt in them.

Hermione knew that this man blamed himself for what had happened, just by how he stood there, his eyes beckoning for punishment. _Merlin, she’d never seen him like this before..._

“Can you forgive me? For my years of silence?” His voice was almost a whisper, it was weak and tired.

Hermione nodded, walking forward and hugging him. She held on to him, shaking a bit as she cried. “I can. Because I understand that we were both victims of circumstances that we did not understand.”

She was held back, and she could feel the man start to cry into her shoulder. She had not seen him cry since Fred. It broke her heart another step. “Hermione, you- I don’t deserve it. I am so sorry for what you have lost.”

Hermione looked over his shoulder at Ginny, tilting her head to the door. There was no reason to put Arthur through more shame by having him cry before the defense. “I know. Gin, can we leave to the house now. There are too many flies on these walls.”

At this moment, Aurors had entered the room, eyes, and wands locked on Molly Weasley. The woman sat there, shaking her head and trying to voice her innocence.

“Yeah, I don’t care what happens to her,” Ginny grumbled.

Hermione let Arthur go, and Ginny took his hand, leading him to the door.

George stopped them, a hand on his sister's shoulder. “Ginny, I’ll go to the house to get some of Dad’s stuff, I’ll be by in a bit.”

“Thanks, son,” Arthur said with a wet voice.

George nodded his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I knew you raised us better than this. I just didn’t know what mum was capable of.”

“I know.” Arthur sighed.

They left together through the floos, George to the burrow, and they went to Harry and Ginny’s house. Hermione’s heart was heavy now, the uplifting of her chest quieted by her sorrow.

“Hey, Arthur?” Harry said, getting to his feet as they entered the room. 

Hermione noticed that he had the invisibility cloak on the arm of the chair.

“Harry, my dad is staying with us for a while. I’m gonna get him settled in the guest room, and then I will tell you what happened today.” Ginny offered, still leading her father by the hand toward the stairs.

“Okay, great, it’s good to see you, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded, being dragged upstairs. “Thank you, Harry.”

That left Hermione in the room with Harry.

He looked at her, his face curious, and he gestured for her to sit down.

Hermione couldn’t sit, she was too out of sorts with her emotions.

Harry sat down, his hand on his cloak as he looked at her.

“How did it go?” He finally asked.

Hermione gestured to the silvery material. “Did you loan him the cloak?”

“Um- yeah.” Harry nodded, looking like he was ready for her to yell at him.

Hermione knew that Harry would have helped Severus to help her. She offered him a smile. “Thank you.”

Harry made a face and shook his head. He leaned forward, rubbing his forehead. “I wouldn’t thank me. I think I made him mad.”

_Or maybe I was wrong…_ Hermione sighed, swinging her arm at her side as she spoke. 

“What did you do?”

Harry leaned on his hands. “I asked questions, and he didn’t want to answer them.”

That was not what she had expected to hear, and now she was curious.

“What did you ask.”

Harry’s eyes glanced at his closed office door before he looked at her. “He wants you to take your baby to Hogwarts. I asked why?”

Hermione followed his gaze, and she did not look back at him.

She realized now that Harry was sitting in the one chair in the house in front of the door.

Like he was keeping watch.

_Had he been there all day?_

“What did he say.” She asked him quietly.

She heard him sigh, and she looked as Harry rubbed where the scar had been. “That I needed to consider that he has your best interest at heart.”

“That doesn’t sound like he was mad.”

“He yelled it inches from my face.” Harry held his fingers up, showing how small the space between them had been.

“Ah, yes, that is a mad Severus.”

There was a quiet pause, and Hermione moved to the door, putting her hand on it and feeling that Harry had put strong shields up.

It confirmed her thoughts. Harry had been standing watch, even when he hadn’t been asked to.

  
“Do you know why he wants you to bring your son,” Harry asked, walking over and dropping the wards.

Hermione pushed the door open. “I don’t.”

“Do you trust him?” Harry asked her, following her into the office.

She picked up the swaddled box, pulling it to her chest. 

Hermione nodded. “With my life, Harry, literally.”

Hermione meant it; she knew that Severus would save her life again if he had to.

The notion that he’d been doing this for a life debt was gone now.

Severus was doing this because there was a spot for her in his life.

He’d said so this morning.

That she just had to wait.

Harry leaned against the desk, crossing his arms as he looked at her. “I know I should just trust him, but I trusted Ron. And he hurt you. And I don’t want to make the same mistakes. He seems to care, but I can’t let you down again.”

She understood. Harry was doing what he thought he needed to do to protect her because he hadn’t done enough before. Unfortunately, Severus was never someone who liked to be questioned.

“He testified today, Harry. He didn’t have to. But he did.” Hermione tried to explain to Harry what that meant; to her, for him, what it meant in the whole scheme of things.

Harry looked surprised at this, his forehead wrinkling. “I thought he told you on no uncertain terms, no.”

“He did.” Hermione nodded with a smile, feeling better now that she had Alexander with her.

Until he was safely put to rest, she did not think she wanted to be separate from him. She knew it was odd because he was dead, but she couldn’t bear the idea of something happening.

“Oh shit. I put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?” Harry sighed.

She tilted her head at him. “Maybe, did you do anything else I don’t know about.”

“I didn’t want to let him borrow my cloak.”

“Oh?” Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, Ginny gave me a what for over it. Says that he’s just trying to protect you.”

“He is.” Hermione had no problem agreeing with that. Severus, so far, had done nothing by trying to protect her.

  
Harry turned to her now, taking on of her hands in his. His green eyes were serious and, his face like he was about to tell her the secret to life. 

“Hermione, listen to me. If you say you trust him, then I will do my best. But I won’t let someone else hurt you. I can’t. I didn’t see it with Ron, but I will be watching it with Severus. If I get an inkling that he’d hurt you, it won’t make it to courts.”

She couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“Harry, I don’t think he’s like that.”

He shook his head, adamantly.

“I don’t care. I’m telling you right now. No matter what happens between you and Severus, if anything does happen or not. If he hurts you, I’m coming for him.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.” Hermione nodded, wrapping Harry in a one-armed hug. 

  
Hermione stayed for a little while longer until Ginny and Arthur came downstairs. Parting was not easy, as Arthur was profusely trying to apologize to her. Hermione’s heart was broken for him because he would look at the box his grandson’s body was in and start crying. 

She had to go before she was crying too and she wasn’t sure what waited for her at the castle.

Steeling her emotions and tucking her arm tightly around her precious parcel, she floo’d her rooms at Hogwarts.

  
Hermione was barely in her rooms for more than five minutes when The Medusa told her that ‘the serpent’ was there to see her. Hermione bid her let him in. She set Alexander on her bed, turning as the door opened.

Severus looked exhausted like he’d been running, but fatigue and worry were in his eyes. He walked into the room like a man on a mission, and Hermione barely had a moment to react before she was wrapped in his arms. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his coat.

He smelt different, like damp earth and the green of leaves, and musk. 

“My apologies for before, for the distance. I could not risk it.” He breathed into her hair, placing a kiss on her scalp. 

“I understood.” She breathed against him, her fingers curling into the wool of his coat.

He squeezed her and then took a step back, looking at her with open affection. “I have done something for you. And you may tell me that you do not want it, and it will not offend me. But I had to do something.”

Hermione was curious, as this was the most open she’d seen Severus’s eyes before.

It was like looking at a different person, with warmth and compassion there.

It made her feel safe and wanted, and so many other things that she’d not prepare herself for.

Today was such a contrast of highs and lows, and she wasn’t sure how much more of the rollercoaster she could handle. 

But she wanted this high. Whatever had changed in Severus from that courtroom, she wanted to see it all the time. Hermione felt the thrum of warmth again run through her.

“What is it, Severus?” She breathed, still trying to catch her breath from the emotions that had stolen it from her.

He exhaled deeply, still obviously strained from whatever mad dash he made to her rooms. “I must show you. Will you bring him?”

He gestured his eyes to the box that held her son, looking at her with hope.

Hermione was so blown away from the expression on his face that she stumbled over her words. “I- yes.”

  
Severus released her and took a step back, rubbing his hands on his coat. Hermione took a step back as well. She turned to the bed, pulled her son up to her chest in his box, and closed her eyes, trying to calm the waves of emotions from up to down without warning.

His hand was on her shoulder, and she did not flinch.

“Follow me.” He offered, taking her other hand in his. Where their skin touched, his hand was warm and calloused.

Hermione let Severus lead her through the castle by the hand. They went down the stairs, each staircase moving as if they were bound by his will to take them where he desired. 

Severus did not hesitate once as they passed the staff and students. Instead, it was the same steady pace, not too fast so that she would have to run, but fast enough that she could tell he was eager to show her what he had done.

  
Their trek had found them in the transfiguration courtyard. 

  
Severus’s walk slowed, and he pulled her closer to him with a gentle tug of her hand. He walked behind one of the walls into a secluded section of the courtyard.

There was a new symbol there that she’d not remembered ever seeing as a student. It was an open book in the stone, the words in Latin across the pages, etched deeply.

Severus had stopped, letting her look at it. Hermione did not understand, but she read the words aloud.

“Timere ea, quia erat amor sui fortissimum et velare faciem eius, ut portenta pugnavit illuc catulus leonis”

Severus translated them for her.

“Fear her: for her love was the strongest that she fought monsters blindfolded for her cub.”

  
Hermione looked at Severus, trying to understand what this was.

_It was beautiful, but what had he done... What was this?..._

He seemed to appreciate her questioning. Severus took her hand and placed it on the book, his hand covering hers.

“ _Summo amore._ ” He breathed, and it was magic, she could feel it run through her hand and into her very being.

  
The wall began to move.

Sliding backward and then to the side, the courtyard wall opened up into a secluded garden.

It was not significant, likely no more than three meters long by two meters wide. But Severus led her in by the hand into the space.

The stone door closed behind them. 

The walls were stone covered in ivy, and the ceiling was glass. Hermione looked up, and she could see the sky, the vibrant red and orange, and purple of the setting sun visible to her.

“I know it is not my place. But there is no place safer than Hogwarts for him. Not when some seek to hurt you.” Severus said, letting her hand go.

Hermione continued to look around the room, and her eyes fell on what Severus was meaning. There was a hole in the ground, and at the head of it, there was stone. A headstone that had a candle on it, waiting to be lit.

Hermione looked at him with wonder. “How- how did you do this?”

This place had not existed before, Hermione could feel it as she had once been attached to this school's very soul.

This was new, and it smelt like Severus had when he embraced her.

Her heart was beating like a wild drum in her ears.

She felt like her feet were going to give out from under her.

He must have sensed this, his hand coming around her back and moving her to sit on a stone seat. It had been tucked into a corner. He knelt beside her, his hand on her knee as he explained what he had done for this to come to creation.

“I asked Minerva first. Then we asked the castle. It required a great deal of magic and intent.” He looked at her and then looked at the ground as if he were ashamed. “I know, I took liberty in doing this. I should have waited. If you do not like it, I am sure that I can change it.”

His face looked pained as if he were already reeling from a rejection that she had not yet given. 

Hermione reached for his face, turning him so that he was looking at her. “No, no, Severus. I- I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

His hand covered hers, and he still had that expression of pain in his eyes. The only time she’d seen that on his face was seeing his memories with Harry. 

“Hermione, I- watching you sit there and knowing what you suffered. It took all I had as a man to not kill Weasley on the spot. I- I could not bear to think that you would be forced to go back to that house to lay him to rest again. He deserved better, as do you.”

Her heart climbed into her throat, and tears began to run down her face.

“I- oh, gods.” She covered her mouth with her hand as a sob escaped her.

His head hung low again, and her heart felt like it was going to explode. 

“I am sorry, I know I should have asked.” The voice was not the same powerful, domineering voice that he’d used in the courtroom. This was softer and sad like he was remorseful and broken.

“Severus, do you understand what you have done?” Hermione asked, wrapping her arms around herself and Alexander.

  
Black eyes met her browns, a look of desperation there. What had made Severus so open to her? How much had he heard, how long had he been in that courtroom. Hermione could not think of it as he leaned toward her, beseeching her.

“No, tell me, and I will fix it. I will fix it, and it will be whatever is in my power to give to you.” Severus offered.

She shook her head, leaning forward to press her forehead to his. “You are an idiot.”

“I know.” He said, and Hermione was sure that there was an edge of tears in his voice.

Hermione was crying enough for both of them now. 

  
He didn’t realize that he’d done more for her son, that his own father. He’d given his power and magic over to the castle to make a place for him, someplace that would be safe. While apologizing and acting remorseful, Ron had done the bare minimum and left her to the rest. Her heart swelled as the tears ran like large drops down her face and fell on to the blue blanket.

“No, you don’t. His own father wouldn’t help me bury him. He dug the hole because I was too weak, but he left me to do everything. I- he would have never done this-” Hermione sobbed, and Severus shifted, his hand coming up behind her head as he looked at her.

“I-” He began, but she placed a finger on his lips.

She was shaking with emotion. “No, shush. You have- given me- Merlin- I cannot find the words.”

Nothing would come, everything was blank and raw. All Hermione could feel was this indescribable feeling in her heart that was pain and the very mingling of regret and hope together.

“Then don’t.” Severus breathed, his arm sliding down around her shoulders, bringing her close to him. She buried her head into his neck, crying for what felt like forever. He did not move from her, only holding her and offering soft words of comfort.

  
After her throat was sore with the tears and she felt too heavy to go on, she leaned back, wiping her eyes.

“Can he stay here forever.” She asked, looking around the sanctum that had been built for her son.

Severus nodded, following her gaze around the small room. “The castle agreed to such. He will be protected, and you will forever have access to this private garden.”

“I can’t- thank you.” 

Severus stood, moving to the blank stone. “I did not know if you’d named him, so I did not finish this. I am sorry.”

“Alexander?” She offered, looking at the wooden box in her arm.

Severus asked quietly. “What?”

  
Hermione had obviously whispered, and she looked at Severus, giving him the explanation that she’d never been able to give anyone else. “His name is Alexander Herald- like the male form of Alexandria for the Library of Alexandria and Herald, like the herald of good tidings.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Severus’s lip, and he nodded as he moved behind the stone. “I would not expect anything less from you, Hermione. Would you like me to put it on the stone?”

“Yes.” Hermione agreed, getting her feet under her and walking toward the grave dug for her son.

Severus unwrapped his palm, placing his hand on the stone.“Do you want me to put your last name - or-?”

Hermione realized that he had his left hand wrapped with a bandage. She’d not noticed it before, but it made sense. When they were repairing the castle, workers would have to offer some of their life-force to help it use its magic. Severus was giving of himself for this to be in existence. He’d given his own blood.

“Mine,” Hermione said then and there, deciding that Ronald had no place in her child's claim.

Severus seemed to understand her, and he gave her a nod. “Give me a moment.”

Hermione felt it. Severus closed his eyes, leaning against the stone. He was whispering words that she could not hear, but she could feel the magic permeating him. It felt old, and it felt warm. Hermione recognized that it sounded like the heartbeat of the castle in the room now. Low and steady, a soft undercurrent.

The stone shifted in front of her, and the letters of her son's name began to sink into the rock. She watched each letter with wonder, standing before the show of magic from Severus.

When Severus removed his hand, the vibration and magic stopped. He wrapped the linen around his palm once more. Hermione now understood the exhaustion in his face from before. He leaned back against the ivy-covered wall. 

“Thank you.” Hermione breathed, taking her to her knees in front of the hole in the ground. She noticed that it was uneven like it had not been dug with magic, but by a shovel. She looked up at him then, trying to understand him and marvel at him simultaneously.

“You are welcome. Do you want- me to leave?” He asked, standing straighter and pulling his robes right.

Hermione shook her head. “Please stay with me.”

“As long as you will have me.” He offered.

There was weight there, and Hermione could feel it sink into her spine and settle in her stomach like a soft sigh.

  
Hermione set Alexander into the hole, tucking the blanket over her arm. She wanted to keep it as something to remember.

Hermione was crying again, whispering goodbyes and trying to explain to her son that she loved him more than anything and that she was sorry that she had to move him.

She whispered assurances until the stars were visible above them through the glass ceiling. And then, she started, handful by handful to bury him. 

Severus sat beside her, watching her but not participating. He looked lost like he wasn’t sure where he fit in this scene, but he did not leave her side.

Hermione took his hand and looked up at him through her tear-streaked eyes. “You can help if you want, but you don’t have to, you’ve done so much.”

He seemed to relax then, leaning forward and using his unbounded hand to move dirt into the hole.

  
It was done in silence, but it was not as heartbreaking as it had been before. Hermione didn’t feel like she’d been abandoned to her pain but instead had a steady and silent companion.

Hermione patted the ground down over her son and sat back on her heels, letting out a deep breath. The weight of the day was now bearing down on her. So much had happened in such a short time. 

Hermione leaned on Severus now, her head on his shoulder. He did not push her away but stayed steady for her. He flicked his wand, the candle coming to life, illuminating her son’s name.

Alexander Herald Granger

  
“Would you like to go back into the castle,” Severus whispered, leaning down to kiss her hair. She could feel the press against her scalp, and she let out a soft sigh.

Hermione nodded against his shoulder. “Yes.”

Severus stood then, offering her his hands to get her to her feet. “Come, I shower will do both of us some good.”

“Severus.” She took a step back, instinctively drawing her arms around herself. While she felt no threat from him, she had a fear of anything that could be even close to sexual in nature. Her heart raced for a moment, but he shook his head, offering her his hand.

“Separately, you daft woman.” He huffed, but his eyes were not angry with her.

Hermione took his hand then, looking at her son’s final resting place once more. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

  
Severus led her back to the castle, and Hermione felt for a moment like things were sliding into place, and that maybe, from here onward, things would get better. It was hope, and she’d not felt it all too much in the past years, but with Severus hold her hand, it felt like it was trying to move into her heart as a permanent resident.


	37. Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

It was not as hard to convince Minerva as he had suspected.

Even the castle did not brook as much of an argument. Severus was grateful as he had no idea how much time he would have to do this.

With the castle’s guidance, he found where it would be best to execute his plan.

_There must be life given to create new spaces..._ The castle did not speak to him as much as he felt the words.

It was a tiny nook that he found himself standing in.

He took in a deep breath, shoulders rising with it as he made sure this is what he wanted to do. 

There was a chance that she would loathe, and that he would have missed the mark.

But after he saw her sitting here, sobbing and cradling her child’s coffin, he could think of nothing else.

Since the battle of wills had ended, all that was left was the lingering need to do something to make it right.

Severus had brought one of his sharper knives, the one that would easily slice your finger off if you weren’t careful. It took life to create life, the castle demanded a price for something this important.

He was willing to pay for it.

Closing his eyes, he focused on what he wanted, envisioning it in his mind as he deftly drew the blade across his palm.

He had chosen his palm because it also represented a sacrifice of some import. His hands were his most important tools, and to damage and give of one, would carry more magic into the making. Not all sacrifices were single layered.

  
He followed the instinct in his gut, letting the castle show him what must be done.

Placing his bloodied palm on the stone, he thought of Hermione, of her struggle, what she’d gone through and what she’d done to survive. He impressed his will on the stone, his magic ebbing into it.

Severus could feel the groan of the great castle as it adjusted and moved. He stood there, eyes closed, shaking but not letting go as he pushed with what force of will and power had to weave this place into making. 

He felt the magic slow, the form taking shape, and solidifying.

He was drained, but it was worth it.

Before him, under his hand, was a book. It was shaped from stone, and the castle has imprinted Latin in.

He read it several times, trying to decipher where it had come from as he had not thought the phrase.

But it was the truth.

Hermione had battled demons that she could not even see to save her marriage and son. She’d suffered abuse that no one deserved. 

He could tell that it was a door, yet, pressing on it, even with his bloodied hand, did not move it. 

The castle was singing with magic at this point, he suspected that Minerva in her office could hear the sound. It was like a mother trying to quiet a fuzzy child, a gentle hum with a rising and falling. 

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, listening. There were words, but Severus had never heard the castle speak.

Dumbledore had rambled on more occasions than he wished about how the castle was a grand conversationalist, but he’d never heard the voice.

_“She felt the greatest loss but was filled with the greatest love. Summo Amore. The Greatest Love.”_

It repeated, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing. 

“Summo Amore.” He breathed, and he felt the door open to him.

He’d not been giving the option on what to make the password to the room, the castle had its own plans it seemed.

The hidden room looked as he had imagined it; secluded, peaceful, and private. Someplace he imagined that Hermione could come to have a quiet moment to herself or to mourn in peace.

The headstone stood at the far wall, blank as he had no idea what she’d called the child. He never thought to ask, he didn’t want to press, but now Severus wished it was a question that he had pried into before.

The ground was soft grass, and he pulled the trowel that he’d pilfered from Longbottom’s greenhouses. A spell, and it was a longer shovel. 

Severus could have dug the hole with magic, he could beckon the castle to open the ground up for him. But he didn’t want to. Something in him, that tingle in the back of his mind that was incessantly telling him to do things, told him now that he needed to do this by hand. That it would matter more.

That somethings magic could not solve.

So he dug. Severus had not gotten a good look at the babe's coffin, but he could guesstimate how big to make the hole. It was not an easy labor, and he was not accustomed to it, but he did not stop, even when his hand burned against the handle, letting a trickle of blood into the soil. When it was deep enough, and wide enough, he dismissed the trowel and took a seat on the stone bench that he had willed into existence. 

Wrapping his hand with a roll of linen from his coat pocket, he felt the castle settle around him with a soft sigh, and it’s gentle heartbeat fading to the background.

The school was pleased with what he’d done.

Severus sat, exhausted and magically drained, on the stone bench. This private sanctum had precisely the feel he’d been looking for; tranquility. Someplace that she could be comfortable and feel safe.

It seemed that his rest would be short-lived. He felt Hermione enter the castle, her presence so much easier to sense while he was so in-tune with Hogwarts. He rose, wiping his brow and fixing his coat. As soon as he was clear of the stone opening, he made haste.

Severus did not care that he was seen bolting up the stairs, there was no energy for that. He would not rest until he made sure that she was happy and okay.

The Medusa looked him over as he breathed heavily. “She is here.”

“I need to see her.” He panted, leaning against the wall and catching his breath.

She pushed a sleeping soldier over as she coiled out of the frame. “Very well, Serpent.”

As soon as the door was open, he was moving toward her.

Hermione was standing there, looking shocked, and he could still see the trails of sadness on her face.

He wanted to do whatever he could to remove that look from her face. He pulled her close to him, his face tucking into the mass of unruly brown hair.

She did not rebuke him. Instead, she pulled him into her, and Severus pressed his lips to her crown. 

He warbled a whisper into her hair, his chest tight with worry. “My apologies for before, for the distance. I could not risk it.” 

His hopes were affirmed when she answered him, pressing her face into him. “I understood.” 

Pulling her to him tightly, he thanked Merlin for the blessing of her understand.

He felt open and vulnerable right now, and he was not sure he would handle if she were mad over what happened in the courtroom. 

He peered at her then, expressing with a glance the emotions that he did not have words for. It seemed that being so connected to the castle has taken down many of his self-imposed walls.  
  
He whispered affectionately to her. “I have done something for you. And you may tell me that you do not want it, and it will not offend me. But I had to do something.”

Hermione was looking at him like she’d never seen him before. Not like he was a stranger, but that she’d never actually seen who he was. Severus admitted, it was likely true.

“What is it, Severus?” Her words were breathy like she had been the one to run up the stairs.

He looked around the room, spying that she’d brought her son. A weight of fear fell away. His work would not have been for naught. “I must show you. Will you bring him?”

Hermione turned, looking at her son’s coffin and then back to him. “I- yes.”

Much of what conspired from there was a blur of urgency to Severus. He’d taken her hand and guided her to the courtyard without much thought at all. It was as if he were walking on reflex. Once they made it the secluded corner, he looked at the book and then her. He was hopeful that Hermione would see merit in the words that had been inspired by his intent. 

She looked confused and recited it in Latin, looking for a meaning. Severus translated it for her, not knowing if she was actually able to do so herself. He did not want to assume.

The wonder did not leave her eyes, and more questions were filling the brown depths. Severus's words were failing him; he was too overwhelmed with his own feelings and weariness. Severus took her hand in his, placing it over the book. 

“Summo amore.” He breathed, and it did not feel like it had before. Instead of his magic going into the stone to open it, he felt it go into her and back to him. It tingled, and his nerves fired rapidly, sending slight numbness through his hand. He'd did not expect the magical feedback.

With her hands in his, he led her into the private sanctuary that he’d made for her. 

  
Severus watched as she looked in wonder and confusion at the space they were in. It was lit with a sunset's colors, the glass panes reflecting and shining it into the area.

He needed to say something, anything to make him feel like he’d not gone mute in the wake of the magic. “I know it is not my place. But there is no place safer than Hogwarts for him. Not when some seek to hurt you.”

“How- how did you do this?” She gasped, her hand coming up to her chest.

Her eyes felt on the blank stone, and Severus thought she was going to faint.

Reacting, not thinking, he caught her, easing her to the bench that he’d been sitting on before her arrival. Severus fell to his knees, tired and worried that he’d overstepped his place with her. 

He looked to her for as long as he could before the shame took him over as he explained where this place came from. “I asked Minerva first. Then we asked the castle. It required a great deal of magic and intent. I know, I took liberty in doing this. I should have waited. If you do not like it, I am sure that I can change it.”

  
Her hand reached for his face, lifting him up to look at her. The last time he felt this dejected, it had changed the whole course of his life and history.

Her brown eyes did not hold hate for him, but something else.

“No, no, Severus. I- I can’t believe you would do this for me.”

Severus placed his hand over the one on his face, searching for the words to explain why he did. This woman had seen hell that he’d himself not want to walk. She deserved more than he could give her, but he was willing to provide her with whatever he had. 

“Hermione, I- watching you sit there and knowing what you suffered. It took all I had as a man to not kill Weasley on the spot. I- I could not bear to think that you would be forced to go back to that house to lay him to rest again. He deserved better, as do you.”

  
She let go of his face, a sharp realization taking her eyes as she sobbed. “I- oh, gods.”

His heart broke again. He’d missed the mark, and he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

“I am sorry, I know I should have asked.” He tried to keep from letting the emotions fill his voice, but he was nothing but a raw bundle of them now.

  
Hermione cradled her dead child's coffin to her, looking so shocked as she gasped at him. “Severus, do you understand what you have done?”

He didn’t. Severus had no idea what he’d done to hurt her, but he was willing to do what he needed to fix it. He begged her with his eyes as his words pleaded his case. “No, tell me, and I will fix it. I will fix it, and it will be whatever is in my power to give to you.” 

They were so close now, their breath mingled as one.

Severus was trying to wrestle with the emotions that had taken over his logic.

He needed to understand what he needed to make her feel okay again. 

Hermione pressed her forehead to his, whispering to him that he was an idiot. 

For a moment, Severus felt moisture at the corners of his eyes as he told her that he was an idiot. 

She started crying and with each muffled sob, another part of his shattered.

Through the agonizing tears, he listened to her speak. “No, you don’t. His own father wouldn’t help me bury him. He dug the hole because I was too weak, but he left me to do everything. I- he would have never done this-”

Hermione cradled his head to hers, and he now understood that it was not sadness, or anger, or rage that she cried it.

It was awe and gratitude.

He’d done right by her, which released a bubble of pressure pressing on his heart. 

He wanted to tell her that he’d done for her, but she silenced him with a finger. Her hands were shaking, the index finger making his lips tremble, but he did not seek to speak more.

“No, shush. You have- given me- Merlin- I cannot find the words.” Hermione tripped and stumbled over the words, and he let them fall into him, raising the levels of emotions like a glass of water that someone had added stones to.

“Then don’t” He breathed, pulling her to him because it felt right. Having her in his arms felt so right. Severus didn’t even realize that there was wrong before this moment. She tucked her face into his neck, the same place she always did and cried. He held her, telling Hermione that she was safe and that he was there. He wanted her to know that she was not alone in this unfair world that had sought to destroy her. That he was going to be right there as long as she wanted him to be.

  
Severus held her until she leaned away from him, wiping her eyes. 

“Can he stay here forever.”

He nodded, his hands running down her arms to ease the crying she held back. “The castle agreed to such. He will be protected, and you will forever have access to this private garden.”

Her gratitude made him smile as he wearily got to his feet. He was dog-tired, but there was still something essential for him to do. 

Sliding behind the headstone, he looked at her apologetically. “I did not know if you’d named him, so I did not finish this. I am sorry.”

Hermione looked down at the blue swaddled box in her arms and whispered.

Severus didn’t hear her, so he asked her to repeat herself. ”What?”

She smiled at him. “His name is Alexander Herald- like the male form of Alexandria for the Library of Alexandria and Herald, like the herald of good tidings.”

_Of course… Of course, the brightest witch of her age would name her firstborn after the most important library in history….It was typical Hermione…_

Severus could not keep the smile from his face as he nodded. “I would not expect anything less from you, Hermione. Would you like me to put it on the stone?”

At her agreement, he unwrapped his palm, flexing the fingers so that it would open the barely healed wound. It hurt, but it was a hurt he was willing to bear.

There was just a bit more to be done, and then he could rest.

Before he began, questions lingered. Severus did not want to give the child Weasley’s last name, but it was not his place to make that call.

Even if the man deserved nothing, Hermione was the one who had to tell him if it would be Weasley or Granger.

“Do you want me to put your last name - or-?”

Her eyes fixated on his hand for a moment before she replied. Her voice was firm and fierce, and he respected her a touch more at that moment. ”Mine,”

Severus pleaded her patience as he placed his hand on the stone. The song rose again nearly as soon as his blood met the rocky surface. The castle welcomed his will, letting his put into shape the name, acknowledging the lost child with his name.

To be born and be nameless was akin to a curse, and some children rose from such afflictions. Severus was glad that Hermione had gotten the chance to name her son.

He focused on that positive feeling, not even realizing that he was singing with the castle as he poured his will into the stone.

When he was done, he felt like a wrung-out rag. He wasn’t sure he had even enough magic to cast a most basic protection spell if he needed it.

He leaned back against the wall, wrapping his hand up once more. 

He watched as she knelt before the graveside. He took her thanks with a nod, but he wondered now if she wanted to be alone.

This was something important to her, and while he would willingly stay with her, he was not going to force his presence on her.

“You are welcome. Do you want- me to leave?” Severus asked her, ready to walk out and give her space if she asked for it.

Her eyes said more than her words. “Please stay with me.”

“As long as you will have me.” Severus did not think about the words before they fell from his lips.

He meant every syllable. He would be at her side as long as she would have him there.

  
Weariness tore at him, and he fell to the ground next to her, holding himself up on his knees.

Once he was there, watching her lower her son into the ground, he felt lost. Severus didn’t know what he needed to do, so he sat quietly.

Her quiet cries and explanations made him feel mournful because he could hear how much this woman loved her child. He could hear how Hermione would do anything to change what had happened.

The strength of her feelings was palpable, and he was stunned by her strength and sorrow. 

He watched as she began to carefully and delicately bury her son, not in great heaps, but careful handfuls.

There was so much meaning in the action. He watched as a dutiful outsider.

That was until she turned to him, tears making her eyes red and swollen. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. He did not mind that she was making his hand filthy. 

“You can help if you want, but you don’t have to, you’ve done so much.” She invited quietly. 

Severus felt her asking him for help without demanding it, and he could not refuse her. He leaned forward, joining her in the quiet ritual that he’d been graced with an invitation to. 

_Your mother loves you, Alexander… Whatever beyond you are in… know that…_ Severus thought as he helped her with the work.

There was something special about this moment, Severus could feel it, but he didn’t understand it. Something was radiating from Hermione, and he was able to bask in it.

When the work was done, and Hermione had patted the last bit of ground down, he let her lean into him.

Tapping into his limited reserves, he lit the candle, allowing it glow upon the fruit of their labor. 

Hermione’s son would never be in danger again. He would never be unsafe, nor would someone be able to take him from her.

“Would you like to go back into the castle,” He murmured, kissing her head. The gentle intimacy of the action did not feel misplaced. Severus felt like it was something he’d been doing all along, even though it was so new between them.

Hermione sighed against him, agreeing. “Yes.”

He pushed to his feet, even as his body screamed at him. Severus needed rest, and he needed a shower. Everything else would fall into place after that. He reached his hand out to her, pulling her to her feet. “Come, a shower will do both of us some good.”

“Severus.”

Her reaction to draw away and try to protect herself made him sigh. Of course, she would take that route of thought with their increased closeness. 

“Separately, you daft woman.” He grumbled, but could not find it in him to fault her.

Not with what he knew she’d been through. She trusted him but not that much.

Severus wasn’t sure if there would ever be a point where she put any kind of trust like that in him. It would be something he would have to wait and see about.

If it were meant to happen, it would happen, he was not eager to push for it.

Her eyes went to the candlelit grave again, and she smiled. It was like the sun had risen after it had already set. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He breathed out, trying to catch his breath in the wake of her beauty and the day's strain. He hadn’t worked this hard in a long time.

* * *

  
That night, Severus found it hard to sleep. Even though he was bone tired and drained, his mind kept him away with thoughts of Hermione. He worried that she wasn’t sleeping well. That she was having nightmares, or that she was unhappy. Every time he would readjust and close his eyes, he would feel like there was something wrong. 

For over an hour, he tossed and turned and tried to still his mind. It would not be ignored.

The shower had done him a world of good, but if he did not sleep, he would not regain his magical reserves.

He would only be able to sleep if he knew that Hermione was okay. 

Getting out of bed weakly, he pulled on green sleeping trousers and a grey sleep shirt.

Wrapping his robe around himself, he walked to the floo.

Severus was a fool, he knew he’d be waking her, but he had to know she was okay to rest easy.

He called for her, and he heard her beckon him to come through.

Hermione was sitting in her bed, the blue blanket on her lap. She did not look like she’d been sleeping either.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, moving to get out of the bed.

He stopped her, holding his hand up. “I was worried that you might not be sleeping because of what had happened today.”

“Oh- I’ve not been able to fall asleep yet.” She pulled the blue blanket closer to her, worrying it in her hands. She looked like she was dealing with too much on her mind.

“Can I help?” Severus offered, leaning against the wall. His ankles were killing him and were displeased that he was walking at the moment.

“No, I already took the tea with your sleep aid, and it doesn’t seem to work?” 

Severus stopped fast, raising a brow at her.

 _Had Queenie given up the information?..._ While she was not required to keep secrets, as free elves had different rules, he would have thought that she cared too much for Hermione to do so.

“Pardon?” He tried to look scandalized, even though he knew he was caught.

  
Hermione laughed, her shoulders gathering up at the peak of her next as she looked at him, “Severus, did you really think I would not be able to taste the potions in my tea and coffee?”

 _So she had gathered it on her own?… How much time had it taken her?…_ Severus wondered to himself.

Rubbing his chin with his unwrapped hand, he nodded, not denying her accusations. “I- well, it seems that I might have underestimated your senses. Why did you say nothing before.”

“I thought Minerva had ordered you to do it. I didn’t want to make you angry. And then I realized you were doing it to help.” She shrugged, her fingers moving over the blue fabric in her hands. She was rolling it and wrapping it around her hands. It was a clear sign that she was anxious, he didn’t need one of his books to tell him that.

“I suppose I should apologize then?” Severus asked, looking ready to do just that.

He did think that she would be none too pleased with him, knowing that he’d been giving her potions without her explicit permission.

Even if he had the best intentions at heart, it was still an dubious subject at best.

Hermione surprised him again that night.

“No, you were doing what you thought you needed. And I don’t want you to stop, I rather enjoy the knowledge that you care that much.”

Severus nodded his head, knowing that they were far past the point where he could deny that there were some feelings for her. “I do.”

“I know.” She grinned, lighting the room with it.

  
She sat, fiddling with the blanket for several seconds.

Severus’s back began to ache, and he wanted to return to the comfort of a bed, but he did not want to leave her if she needed him.

“Would you like me to stay?” He finally offered, rolling his neck to try to relieve the tension.

She bit her lower lip in something akin to worry. “I would, but I do not have a sofa.”

He drew his wand, sure he could manage one last spell before he passed out from utter exhaustion. “I see. I can transfigure-”

She moved to the edge of the bed, her hands out to stop him from casting. Hermione looked worried, and he ventured that it was over him now, and not the things flooding her mind.

“No. I- Merlin, help me. Come sit.” She patted the bed next to her, moving back toward the middle where she had been

Severus tilted his head, leaning back from her.

Something in him was concerned. Just last night, she’d reacted very intensely against the idea of being in a bed with him.

He did not want there to be some kind of perceived notion that she had to share a bed with him now.

It was not something that was absolute, and he would willingly sleep in the chair rather than cause her discomfort.

“Hermione- if you are not comfortable, I will happily sleep in a chair.”

She shook her head, her eyes holding his gaze. “I am not afraid of you.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall, not moving any closer. Severus needed to know what was going through her mind. 

“But, you have ghosts that you are afraid of.”

“And you are not one.” Hermione offered firmly, patting the bed again.

Severus crossed his arms defiantly, not moving until he was sure this is what she wanted.

He also still had a sore jaw from the morning before and did not want to repeat it. “I have no desire to be punched should I have to use the lavatory.”

Hermione swallowed hard, looking away for a moment, ashamed. “I will do my best not to. _Please_.”

It was her plea that made him move.

Hermione had said please and beckoned him more than three times.

It meant something to her if she was willing to push against his resistance.

He took the steps over to the bed, glancing at the ginger cat at the bed's foot. Crookshanks seemed utterly uninterested in him.

Severus stood at the side of the bed, his arms still crossed over his chest. “If at any time you feel uncomfortable, I will give you your space.”

“I know.” She nodded.

He kneed the bed, giving it a jostle as he removed his robe and set it on the dresser. “Then, scoot, I am not going to lie on the edge either.”

Hermione scooted to the side, and Severus moved the covers, laying on the sheet, but not drawing the duvet over him.

It gave her a layer of separation, and Severus would not freeze if he didn’t have it.

He adjusted, lying on his side and looking at her.

Hermione eased under the covers, her hands tucking the blue blanket under her pillow.

She faced him, her face relaxing.

“This isn’t bad.” She whispered, her face pressed against the pillow.

He smiled back at her, his arms tucked into his side to give her space. “If it becomes too much, tell me, you will not offend me.”

“I want you here. I want to not be afraid of you here.” Hermione explained, reaching out and taking one of his hands.

It was the uninjured hand, thankfully.

He did not think the other could handle holding her hand.

She pulled his hand between them on the bed, giving it a squeeze.

Severus gave her a squeeze back. “I want that too, but don’t force yourself into something you aren’t okay with.”

  
“You did more than this today. I think I can cope with having you in bed with me.” Hermione hummed.

He fixed her with a pointed stare. “Hermione, do not have me here because you think you owe it to me.”

“No, I owe it to me.” She smiled, and it was a soft smile like she was pleased.

“I will accept this.”

  
They lay like that for a whole, quietly looking at each other.

It felt like the settling of silt on disturbed a river bed.

Everything was becoming more apparent to Severus as his emotions settled and stilled.

Up close, she was beautiful, even with the weariness in her eyes.

He lost his focus in her dark honey eyes, letting himself sink into their depths.

He wasn’t reading her mind, he had no desire to pry, he just relaxed in her gaze.

He could have quickly fallen asleep this way.

  
It was Hermione who broke the silence. “How do you know Artimis Shade?”

He made a soft snort.

“Shade was a student of mine, graduated before you ever came here. Bright, cunning, ambitious. That woman has never given up on a project. She’s currently trying to do the impossible. We kept correspondence for quite a time. Her husband and I worked together a few times on- things for the war. When things were too dangerous, the letters stopped.” Severus paused, thinking on how lonely that year as headmaster had been. 

“Then, a few weeks after my trial was over, they started again. It was to tell me that their little boy was coming to Hogwarts and that she expected that he would be a handful, much like her.”

She looked at him with a bent smile. “So, you’ve always only been friends?”

Severus lifted up a bit, giving her a smirk. “Am I to believe that you might be jealous of Healer Shade?”

“No,” Hermione said, trying to conceal the notions. Severus could see it as straightforward on her face as if she were lying about the weather.

He laid his head back down, grinning.

“She has always been a pupil or a peer. Believe it or not, I am not someone who shall we say _‘gets around.’_ I don’t make a habit of being involved with former students.” He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he chuckled to himself.

  
“So how do you know Judge Antonius,” Hermione asked again after a few moments of silence.

His face dropped from the lazy smile, and a feeling of dislike welled up into his chest. “He was not always a judge. He was something far more hands-on.” 

Severus twisted his lips and tried to suppress the anger that came with think about the man.

“When I was first charged, shortly after the Dark Lord disappeared the first time, he was my guard. And my torturer. He wanted to be my executioner.”

“But Dumbledore saved you. Why did he hate you so much?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Hermione, do you really want to know the rather gruesome things I did as a death eater?” He asked her now, looking at her with full disclosure in his eyes.

It did not please him to remember the things that he’d done.

He wasn’t that man anymore. That man had died in a boathouse, a pawn between two kings.

She bit her lip and shook her head.

“Wise choice. Suffice to say that we had a few encounters, and few people got hurt, and someone died.”

“Oh.” She frowned and looked away.

Severus reached over the space between them with his injured hand, catching her chin. “It was a long time ago, and I’ve paid my dues.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I asked.” Hermione frowned at him, sighing.

He was curious now as to where she was going with all this. “Why did you ask?”

“Because you were so brave today, and he was so fixated on you, and I wanted to know why?” Hermione pressed her cheek into his hand.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Do you feel better knowing.”

Hermione nodded and pressed a kiss to his hand, just above the bandage. “Yes, because it goes to show that he’s the worst sort.”

  
Another lull in the conversation and Severus was sinking into a state that he would not return from. His eyes were heavy, fluttering as he fought to stay away.

  
“Hermione.” He whispered her name, focusing on keeping his eyes open.

She smiled at him, giving his hand another squeeze.

“Would it be unacceptable for me to pass out at the moment. I am fighting Morpheus, and he will take me regardless of how hard I fight him.” He yawned, rolling his right shoulder and then returning his hand to her grasp.

A softer sleepier smile graced her lips then, and she leaned forward, placing a kiss on his brow. “It’s okay; go to sleep Severus.”

It warmed his whole face, and he gave her a sleepy smile. “Good night Hermione.”

As soon as he closed his eyes, he was out.

* * *

  
**Matriarch of the Weasley Family Arrested**  
**Bewitched Husband, Encouraged Granger Abuse**

**Molly Weasley, War Hero, and Pureblood, was apprehended on Tuesday afternoon at the Granger-Weasley Pre-trial by DMLE officials. According to a statement put out by the department, her arrest came on the heels of the revelation that she’d jinxed and bewitched her husband into silence to not allow him to speak at the pre-trial.**

**“During a routine inspection for anything nasty, as is the protocol for these high-profile cases, Mr. Arthur Weasley was found to be under three separate spells. A befuddlement hex, a mind-lock spell, and a sedation charm. He was rendered nearly mute and was unable to do more than shamble around. Once the spells were removed, he was easily able to identify his attacker, his own wife. She was apprehended as the pre-trial was coming to a close. This was a case of everything happening like it was supposed to, and our department did an excellent job protecting our citizens. Mrs. Weasley will be accompanying her son back to Azkaban, which he is there for the attempted murder of his wife.”**

  
**It seems that the rotten apple did not fall far from that tree. Many of the members of the Weasley brood were not available for comment. Mr. Potter, the son-in-law of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, did have one comment. “I stand with my father-in-law in this. From what we’ve been able to learn, it seems that something has been going on with Molly for a long time, and no one saw the signs. I would ask that the public respect my family's wishes for privacy as we deal with the many private tragedies that have occurred.”**

**What Mr. Potter is alluding to is that in court on Tuesday, it was proven that Hermione Granger-Weasley was, in fact, pregnant with Mr. Ronald Weasley’s son and that Mr. Weasley had struck her that she lost that child. While details are not entirely given as it is an active case, what we were able to learn was heartbreaking. It seems that the media bias of our former report, Rita Skeeter, really obscured the facts that Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley was suffering from the worst kind of abuse.**

**We will continue to keep monitoring the case, and new information that comes from this arrest or other developments will be discussed.**

  
Severus sighed as he looked at the paper. 

_Could they offer Hermione no privacy at all?…_

While he was glad that the paper was still delivered right to his office. That did not mean that others in the castle would now know and likely bring it up to Hermione. He prayed that that had some sense in the matter and were not inconsiderate of her feelings.

It had only been two days since Severus had helped her bury her son, and it was bound to be something that still caused her tears. He’d have to stop by after first class and ensure that she was okay.

Something had shifted that night between them. 

He didn’t know which of the two events had triggered it. It was most likely giving Alexander a final resting place, but Severus also had a feeling that it had to do with the fact that they slept together without incident. Severus did not advertise it but a feeling that Minerva knew that he had slept in her bed every night with her. 

When they had woken that morning, she was curled up to his side. Hermione's face pressed into his chest, and he was nearly falling off the bed. He didn’t dare move, as he did not wish to startle her into swinging again. He gently woke her by calling her name until she opened her eyes. She smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Severus swore he’d slept on the very line of the bed for regular wakings like this.

That next night, he made no expectations that she would want him there again. He had tucked himself into his own bed, doing his best to find sleep. It eluded him. It ran like he was a fox on the heels of a hare. He was still exhausted from the day before, but it didn’t seem to matter. Just when he was about to give up and seek her out, he heard her in his living area. It had seemed that sleep did not want her either. While she showed immense apprehension about joining him in his bed, she was eager to have him join her. He could not say no to her. 

So for three nights, they had slept together, peacefully. Even though Severus feared getting a blackened eye if he moved swiftly in the bed, the rest and subsequent waking up to her were worth it.

That wasn’t the only thing that had changed either.

Hermione was more openly affectionate with him. Not just when they were alone together, which was quite common, but also in the halls and at meals. Severus found that he didn’t care what anyone in the castle thought about it either. It was not anything obtuse or over the top. Her hand would find his at the table, and she would give it a squeeze. Hermione would touch his shoulder in the hall to get his attention. Small things that seemed to build on this bond that stretched between them.

Severus let the thoughts go as he set about his day. 

It was Friday, and there was no Hogsmeade weekend. He would have all weekend to deal with whatever fallout came from the paper. He hoped that it would not bring her any more undue stress. After all, the actual hearing and decision for her divorce would be on the following Monday.


	38. recapitulating emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

She looked at the time.  
It was nearing seven in the evening.   
Hermione knew that she needed to be off soon.   
She’d made a promise, and she wasn’t going to back out on it. 

Standing from her seat, she could feel his eyes flicker back to her before returning to his work.   
Severus had that look of concentration that he saved for very poor or outstanding essays.

  
“I’ll be back later, I am going to Harry’s. Arthur wants to see me.” Hermione said softly, setting her grading quill down on her side of Severus’s desk. 

“Hmmm.” He grunted at her quietly, pouring over a nearly illegible essay. 

Hermione kissed the top of his head, giving his shoulder a squeeze. She saw the edge of his lip curl into a smile. Her chest felt warm with affection at the sight of him. She let his shoulder go and slipped off to the door.

“If you intend to sleep there, a notice would be appreciated.” His deep voice rumbled from the desk. 

She turned, and he had not looked up at her, continuing the work at hand.

“There would be nowhere for me to sleep, Arthur has taken the guest room, and there is no way I am climbing in bed with him.” Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at the notion. 

Not only would it be the most awkward of situations, but that guest bed was not really made for two grown adults.

Severus did not look as amused at the notion. 

  
That or the essay was an atrocity. 

  
“I shall see you this evening then?”

“Yes, you shall.” Hermione nodded, opening the door to his office. She took a step out and was trying to close it gently.

He looked up at her now, his eyes severe. “Hermione.”

“Yes, Severus,” Hermione asked with a touch of curiosity.

“If you need me, don’t hesitate.”

  
It was touching.   
Severus had been incredibly attentive in the past few days. Even going so far as to make it habit to check up on her between classes.   
She knew that it was selfish on his part as well because he would smile far too much and linger until just before it would make him late.   
Severus was not the sort to want to be tardy. 

Hermione nodded her head, grinning. “I won’t, but Molly and Ron are in Azkaban and Maria at St. Mungos. Who do I really have to worry about now?”

“Tempting fate is not something I recommend.” There was a well of wisdom in those words. 

Hermione did not consider it tempting fate, but it was not anything worth parleying over. “Fair point. Bye.”

“Goodbye.” 

  
She eased the heavy wooden door shut and walked through his empty classroom.   
She’d promised Arthur that they could have a chat tonight after the kids had gone to sleep.   
He’d been incessant that it be sooner rather than later, and she knew that he had a lot that he needed to get off his chest. 

Flooing to the house, she was greeted by the smell of cooking meat and steamed vegetables. Ginny had been trying her hand at cooking different meals, tired of the same things she knew.   
Whatever she had made smelt like something her mother used to make for Sunday supper. She closed her eyes, taking in the smell and the nostalgia with it.   
It made her long for her mother. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was coming home from the library, laden with books and blissful.   
Her mother would kiss her head and send her in to wash up before they sat down, the three of them, for dinner.

Hermione bit her lip, the emotions and the memories mingling and bringing up that she’d never have that feeling again. 

It was one thing that she’d _always_ regret. 

When she’d sent them to Australia, she’d been thinking of saving them from the war that would put them in the crossfire. Hermione had thought distance equaled safety.   
Instead, I meant that she wasn’t able to protect them from the more normal dangers of the world. 

_It was an accident_ , they told her.   
_They shouldn’t have been there_ , _not at night._  
 _There was nothing that could be done for either of them._  
 _It was unfortunate._

Hermione still didn’t know why her parents had been camping in an area densely populated with all wild beasts. It wasn’t uncommon, her family had often taken trips camping when she was a girl. But for them to be so careless was not expected. Instead of them dying from something unavoidable, it had been dingos. Animals that her father could have fought off easily if he’d not been bitten by some mysterious insect rendered him immobile. 

Hermione remembered expecting to come and her parents home and instead brought back their ashes.

  
“A knut for your thoughts?”

Hermione opened her eyes, shaking the thoughts from her as she looked at the older redheaded man.   
Arthur Weasley was leaning against the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.   
His typically gay face was much more somber, and she felt like he’d aged more than he did during the war.

“Sorry, It smells good in here.” She offered, shaking away the feelings of remorse.

Arthur gave her a smile that was part resignation part humor. “Ginny made a roast. You want some.”

“I ate at the castle, but I wouldn’t mind a bite.” Hermione offered, rubbing her elbow nervously.

Arthur flicked his head to the kitchen, turning and walking into the room. “Come on, they are upstairs, getting them asleep.”

Hermione followed him, still holding her arm.

  
Arthur began to make her a plate, gesturing to the bar for her to sit.   
She gave him a commiserating smile and sat, watching him.  
Arthur passed the plate, moving to take a seat next to her. “You know, Molly wouldn’t let me serve. I offered more than once, but she had these notions about how things had to be. Wonder where that went off the rails.”  
Taking the fork in her hand, she shook her head. “Arthur. You don’t have to apologize or-”

Arthur placed his hand on her arm.   
Hermione flinched involuntarily, and he let her go, frowning.  
“Hermione, I asked you here because I have a lot I have to say to you. I need to say to you. Some of it will be an apology, some of it, the sad ramblings of a man who doesn’t know where everything went wrong. I just beg you to give me the chance to say it.” 

His eyes were sad. Arthur looked lost and bereft.

“I understand. I’ll let you speak.” To punctuate the point, she took a bite.

  
He rubbed his forehead, the gesture making the freckles on his face stand out.   
Arthur looked at the wall away from her.   
His jaw was moving up and down like he was trying to say something, but couldn’t.

“You have to know that I didn’t know the extent. I- I thought I’d seen a _single_ incident, a row gone wrong. If- If I’d known- I’d’ve boxed Ron's ears myself. If I had _known_ you were pregnant, I- well, we’d have a babe here to celebrate.” He managed after a long moment, swallowing hard and looking like he was about to cry.

Hermione took another bite, nodding at him, giving him the room he needed to say what it was that he needed today.

“I shouldn’t have listened to Molly. I knew she was having problems with losing Fred. I didn’t expect any of this. She kept putting on the happy face. It was okay, everyone was with who they were meant to be with. She used to tell me that you and Ron were meant together. That it was why she had to keep you together.” Arthur said sighing.

His eyes weren’t looking at her, they were distant, with an one thousand-yard stare.

Hermione swallowed her food, finding it hard to enjoy as it was served with a side of his suffering. “Arthur, you couldn’t have predicted.”

He shook his head, the distance still in his eyes. He grimaced and looked at his hands before speaking again.

“Oh, I could have. When Molly went all mental about this diviner who had helped her talk to Fred in the afterlife. When she was saying that he was trying to keep the family together. You don’t know when something is slipping until it’s gone. I thought it was helping her cope. I told her you can’t talk to those that don’t want to stay on as ghosts. If Fred wasn’t haunting his shop, he wouldn’t sit and have tea with her and some old coot. I was such a fool.” The way he said the last part made it clear that he was blaming himself for everything.

Hermione was confused by the revelation.

Molly didn’t seem the sort of believing in the nonsensical _‘art’_ of divination person.

It was mostly smoke and mirrors and tea that had not much to say.

“Wait, she was trying to talk to Fred?” Hermione asked, her fork being set on the edge of the plate.

“Yes and apparently not trying, but succeeding. This woman wrote Molly letters, a lot at first, but they petered out. Molly said she was transcribing what Fred was telling her. Said that she knew things that only Fred would know. When it calmed down, I paid it no mind. She’d get an owl every once and a while and say it was from Fred, but we’d lost a son; if it helped her- I couldn’t help her.” Arthur said, moving around the counter now to the pantry.

“What did she say that the woman said.” Hermione pried, wondering what could have compelled her to believe it.

Arthur shrugged, reaching into the top of the cabinet to pull down a bottle. “I didn’t ask, I didn’t want to know. I was hurt too, I’d lost a son. Now- I’ve lost a grandson that I never got to know.”

He set down the bottle to get a glass, and Hermione’s stomach dropped like a rock in a lake.

She swallowed hard, gasping for a breath of air as she felt the panic rise in her chest.

Arthur looked at her, seeing her fixate on the crystal bottle, the amber liquid mocking her like a demon.

“Hermione?” He asked her, moving his face so that it was between her and the bottle.

She shook her head, not looking up from the bottle of firewhiskey.

Hermione drew her arms up around her body, protectively, trying to still her heart's rapid pacing.

“Please don’t.” Her whisper was forced as she fought for control.

He looked confused, looking between her and the bottle.

Then suddenly, his face dropped as realization dawned on him. “Huh? Ah- I- forgive me. I didn’t think.”

Arthur snatched up the bottle, scurrying to put it back on the top shelf where he’d found it.

“I know. Please don’t.” Hermione said, trying to catch her breath.

He held his empty glass in his hand, grabbing Ginny's apple juice for the children. “No worries. Juice it is.”

She was still on edge, and her head was achy from the quick shift in blood pressure. “Thank you.”

He took a drink of the cold juice and shook his head. ”I’d forgotten. It wasn’t my intention to frighten you.”

Hermione wanted to talk about anything else at the moment.

She tried to divert the conversation back to what Arthur had been talking about.

It was odd for Molly to have never said anything like to Ron.

Hermione was sure that if Ron knew his mother was getting letters from ‘Fred’, she’d hear about it at least once.

“Where are the letters?” Hermione questioned, rubbing her hands over her arms as she tried to quell the tension in her chest.

Arthur looked confused.

“What letters? Oh, from the diviner? I’m not sure, likely in Molly’s hope chest. Why?”

Hermione didn’t want to think that maybe something had made Molly be this vile to her own husband, but it was not an improbable notion. “Did you ever think that maybe someone was I don’t know, bewitching her? Maybe making her crazier?”

He was thoughtful now, rubbing his chin and looking at the ceiling. “I don’t know, didn’t think about it. I could get them if you’d like to see them.”

“Not sure that is a good idea.” She shook her head, no wanting to know what someone pretending to Fred would say.

Arthur was quiet for a few more moments, drinking his apple juice and looking at the wall.

Hermione let him gather his thoughts, getting up, and washing the plate.

“She did keep saying something that I didn’t understand.” He broke the silence, and Hermione turned to him, drying the dish and putting it back.

“Hmm?”

He was leaning on the counter, his forehead wrinkled as it seemed he replayed some portion of the dialogue in his mind.

Hermione waited patiently, wondering what of the many things the woman likely said had stuck out to him. 

  
“It was always that you and Ron were ** _meant_** for each other. It was like it didn’t matter if you had a rough patch, or in this case, being abused, you had to be together because you were meant together.” Arthur mused, his second hand coming to lean on the counter. It was as if the weight of remembering made him shrink. 

Hermione had to agree. “She said that a lot to me too.”

Molly Weasley had screamed the notion at her more than once, telling her that she was ruining everything for trying to leave Ron, that she had to try harder.

It was almost obsessive the way she always pushed Hermione back to Ron.

The fact that this had just occurred to Hermione made her concerned about other things she hadn’t noticed while amid the trauma.

Arthur sighed, his shoulder going lack as he turned to look at her. “Do you reckon- no, that’s not.”

“What?” Hermione asked, moving around him again to sit in the barstool facing him. 

“Do you reckon whoever was sending her those letters told her that?” His voice was a conspiratorial whisper like he was afraid that saying it too loud would make it the truth.

The thought sat with her wrong. It was like it was sticky and clung to her other ideas pervasively. 

_What on earth could make someone try to make Molly keep her and Ron together?…_ Hermione couldn’t find a reason.

“I don’t know. I mean, if what you are saying is true. Maybe, but why would someone pretending to be Fred say that Ron and I were meant together, and Molly believed it.” Hermione offered.

Molly was never the type to believe in that kind of business.

When they were looking for the prophecy, she was skeptical.

Why would she make such a rapid change to belief, if someone, in fact, had tried to tell her that Fred said they were meant to be.

Arthur shared the same confused face that she did. It seemed they were both trying to unravel what had happened to Molly. Had there been an outside force driving this or losing her son had pushed her off some edge. Harry had told Hermione that even Molly’s biggest fear never had the twins separated. And Hermione knew now that the grief of losing a child was incredible. Had it been the catalyst to all of this?

“Not sure. I think I might take a look at those letters myself. Not now, I’ll have to go to the house tomorrow.” Arthur said, waving his hand and taking another drink of the juice.

It dawned on her that the man had not been back to his home since the pretrial. Harry had told her that he didn’t seem eager or interested in the letter he’d sent her yesterday.

The burrow was his ancestral home, and yet, he had been sending his son to get anything he needed from it.

“Are you okay, not being home?” Hermione asked, reaching forward and touching his forearm gently.

Arthur looked at her hand on his arm and gave her a weak smile. “I think so. It’s not much of a home without Molly there. It’s a stack of memories that hurt and confuse. If it weren’t in the family so long, I think I’d of gotten rid of it.”

It hurt her heart to hear him say those words in such a sorrowful tone.

It was clear that even now, with what had happened, that Arthur loved his wife very much.

Hermione realized that the lost look on his face was not only because of so much tragedy but because he didn’t know what to make of his own life without Molly. 

Hermione wanted to cry for him. He’d done nothing wrong, and he was suffering. Her eyes grew wet.

“I’m sorry.” She warbled, squeezing his arm. 

Arthur tentatively put his hand over hers. “For what? I failed you, Hermione. I failed as a father. I should’ve known. I did know he was drinking, George told me often, but everyone coped in their own ways. And you, you are a _brilliant_ actress, you know that. You kept on smiling and making it seem like there was nothing wrong. I wish you would have told us sooner.”

Guilt layered over the sadness as she realized that she might have saved them all so much heartache if she’d only had the strength to tell everyone.

If she were stronger, it wouldn’t have been a secret, and Arthur might have been able to stop it before it went too far.

The only person she told, told her that it was her fault.

The tears were unavoidable now, rolling hot down her cheek.

“I tried. I tried to tell Molly, and she sent me home. She said that I needed to wait for him to sober up and talk, it was just a misunderstanding.”

Arthur squeezed her hand, and he dropped his face, avoiding her eyes. “I think she didn’t understand, in her own way. I’m not excusing it at all. It’s hard to think of the one you love standing behind that.”

“Imaging loving someone and having them turn into your torturer.” She choked back, trying to stop from crying.

She was starting to hate crying more than she had before.

So much made her cry, and she wanted to be at a place where it didn’t.

She’d tried for two weeks to make it so that she wouldn’t cry anymore and that had failed so miserably.

  
Arthur looked up at her. “I have a question, and you don’t have to answer.”

She drew her hand away, wiping the tears with her fingers away from her eyes. 

“Ask away.” Her voice was weak and full of tears.

He seemed to hesitate and turned from her, taking a few steps back and forth in the kitchen before rotating again.

Arthur seemed like he was weighing if he really wanted to ask what he was thinking or not.

Finally, he presented his thoughts. “Did you really love him? Did you want to marry him?”

It wasn’t what she was expecting, and she sat there, stunned for a few moments.

No one had asked her than in years. It was always the assumption that she did.

Hermione looked into her own feelings, rifling through them for the right answer.

“I- yes, I think so.”

Arthur nodded, his fingers tapping against his thigh as he did a few more paces back and forth.

It looked like he was trying to unravel a problem. Or trying to find out how some Muggle devices worked. 

He held his hand up now, his finger toward the ceiling. “I remember you telling him no. I remember how you seemed like you weren’t sure the whole time you were getting ready for the wedding. I thought it was jitters, but now, I- are you sure?”

Hermione knew what he was talking about.

His words brought back the multiple times that she had tried to stop the wedding and wanted to leave.

How she stayed because she believed that no one else would be able to love her.

That Ron was her only chance at getting family.

How she knew her mother would have loved that she’d gotten married.

Molly always telling her it was going to be alright, that every young bride felt that way.

It was cold feet, it would go away. 

_Did it ever go away?…_ Hermione found herself asking. The resounding echo in her mind was a soft but firm “no.”

She shook her head at him, her palms grasping her forehead as she leaned her elbows on the bar. “I’m not. Not anymore. If you are asking if I thought he would be like this, then no. But I knew that we were different. But, something happened, and I felt like he was my only option for happiness. I thought we would be happy. I wanted us to be happy. I did everything I could to be the best wife, but it wasn’t enough.”

The fact that she’d just openly admitted that she wasn’t sure that she loved Ron hit her like a ton of bricks. It made many feelings stir and rise to the surface. Things she was not entirely ready to cope with.

“I thought so.” Arthur murmured, coming to lean across from her, his forearms supporting him.

It couldn’t have been for Arthur to hear it, and Hermione could do nothing but apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You did what you thought you needed to. I could see that with how you catered to Ron's needs. You wanted to be a good wife. I’m sorry that it didn’t turn out.” His voice wasn’t hurt or anger, it was resigned. 

“You and me both.” 

  
For a few moments that seemed to linger longer than needed, they did not speak.

Hermione sniffled and tried to pull back the emotions that were all over the place, and Arthur was pensive.

She wondered if he’d sad everything he needed to.

She was so wrapped in those thoughts that she almost didn’t hear him speak.

“What did you name him?” 

She was confused for a few moments. Hermione was trying to find her place in the conversation. “Hmm?”

Arthur gestured to her flat stomach with one hand. “The baby, did you get to name him?”

She could see that he was wet-eyed now. He looked like someone had punched him, his face was red and lips grimaced in pain.

Swallowing back as much of the pain as she could, she gave him a soft smile. Arthur, more than deserved to know what his grandson had been named.

“Yes. Alexander Herald.” His name left her lips with a swell of pride and sadness.

Arthur smiled, the waterline in his eyes shifting, and one tear escaped down his right cheek. “A strong name.”

“He was a strong kicker. I wish you could’ve felt it.” It hurt to say. It was always going to be in the past tense. No matter what, Alexander was never going to get to be spoken about with pride in the present tense. 

Hermione’s heart ached for Arthur as much as it did for her. Alexander would never get to be held by the man or hear his ridiculous stories about Muggle magic. Arthur would never have the opportunity to carry him around and listen to him coo and cry. Arthur was an amazing grandfather with all of his grandchildren, but Alexander would never get that.

The wave of pain was so intense that she bowed over, her face nearly pressing into the countertop as she felt a great sob leave her chest. It was followed by more, and Hermione crossed her arms, pressing her face into them on the countertop. Her glasses slid up her nose painfully, and she pushed them on to her head. 

She felt Arthur brush some of her hair away. 

He was crying too now. “My dear girl, I am so sorry.”

“You didn’t do it, please, don’t cry.” Hermione managed to gasp out, her chest heaving.

She heard him move around the bar, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I would have loved him. Like I love James and Lily and Bill’s girls. I would have loved him.”

“I know, Arthur, this is not your fault.” Hermione nodded against her arms. 

His tears only made her cry harder. “My son killed my grandson, and I could have stopped it.”

Hermione swallowed a sob, her chest heaving as she was gasping for air. 

She couldn’t believe how he blamed himself. “How, if I was hiding it from you.”

“I had suspicions, and I let Molly keep me from looking into the truth,” Arthur whispered, still holding her, his hand rubbing up and down her arm.

She shook her head.   
It was not his fault.   
It was her fault.  
If she’d done more, Alexander would be alive-, if she’d been more assertive or sought more help.

Hermione felt the guilt rise like a tidal wave over her, and there was nothing she could do as she plunged under it. “It’s not your fault. If it’s anyone's besides Ron’s, it’s mine. I should have told you. I should have run as soon as I knew I was pregnant.”

She cried harder, her lungs burning from it. It wasn’t even tears anymore, just the pounding ache of her chest and the sobs wracking her chest. Hermione cried, and Arthur tried to comfort her.

Arthur shook his head against her shoulder. “You cannot take that burden alone. It is my fault too. Can you forgive me?”

The guilt had taken her over, and she looked up over her shoulder into his eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

“Already done,” Arthur whispered, pressing his forehead against her arm.

She managed to gasp out the words. “The feeling is mutual.”

  
It was several more minutes before she was calm enough to lift her head from the counter. Once she did, Arthur stepped back, giving her space. He looked as tired on the outside as she felt on the inside. He took the glass of juice and finished it off.

“Where have our lives gone?”

Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes and trying to collect herself. “I don’t know, I don’t know, but merlin, I wish I did. All I know is it has to get better from here.”

  
They talked for a while longer, Arthur asking her questions about what had happened and what signed he’d missed. Hermione was willing to answer some of his questions, but she found she was tired of talking about it as they drew toward the end. He seemed to sense this, because he began to act like he was drowsy and like she was keeping him, an old man, from getting some sleep. 

Hermione had to smile because it was an act that he was putting on for her. She’d seen him do it a million times for his grandkids. He smiled back at her, reaching out for a hug.

“I want to see more of those smiles, okay. You deserve it.” Arthur offered, and Hermione reached out and gave him a hug.

“I can try. Thank you, Arthur.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let this old man rest his bones. I’m sure there are still papers to grade for a busy woman like you.”

Hermione bid him goodbye, letting him wander off up the stairs as she left via floo for her rooms.

  
She sighed as she stepped out, taking a few moments to center herself in the room. Rubbing her eyes behind her glasses, she rolled her shoulders.

Her eyes hurt from crying, and her glasses were dirty from how many times she had touched them.

“Dare I ask, with that great sigh of yours, how your audience with the patriarch of the Weasley clan went?”

Hermione turned, looking into the bedroom.

Severus was sitting up against the head of her bed, one leg crossed over the other. He was in his sleeping clothes, long black pants, and a green sleeping shirt with a book in his hand, reading.

She chuckled a hum seeing him, his presence cheering Hermione. He looked relaxed and comfortable like he belonged there waiting for her.

“It was just emotionally draining. I- we talked a lot about what happened over the past few years between Ron and me.” Hermione put her bag down on the chair.

Severus flipped a page, still not looking up as he spoke. “I see, I imagine that could not have been easy for either of you.”

“No, It wasn’t. What are you reading?” Hermione began to take off her shoes as she walked toward the bedroom.

Severus gestured to the empty bookcases with his bandaged left hand while holding the book in his right. “Since you have yet to unpack a single item into this room, I had to bring my own material. It is a book that Healer Shade sent me last fall, and due to circumstances, I have only been able to read it twice.”

Hermione did look around at his gesture. Something still didn’t feel right about unpacking, and so she continued to live out of her beaded bag.

It made her feel more secure, knowing that if danger came, Hermione could run and hide.

She shook her head from the thought, walking around the bed and putting her glasses on the bedside table.

“And I assume it is such a page-turner that you desire to read it more than that.” She asked, pulling some sleep clothing from the bag of her initial thoughts.

She walked to her bathroom, closing the door tightly and locking it. 

Severus raised his voice as he had started doing when she was in the bathroom. “It is on some experimental theories on intention-based brewing. I have already proven some of them correct, but, like all theories, they are not perfect.”

“Which ones did you prove correct?” Hermoine closed her eyes, stripping hastily and freshening up.

The fear of her own nakedness had not abated, and in fact, she was more conscious of it, with having Severus in her private spaces. As soon she was dressed, she opened the door, looking at him.

Severus seemed amused for a moment, turning the page once again. “Panic puffs can not be made unless I am absolutely calm. If there is an inkling of anything else, they, ahem, explode.”

The idea that Severus exploded any kind of potion was ludicrous to her, but she knew he wasn’t perfect. It was just the illusion of the potions master’s infallible nature that made her think so.

Hermione walked around the bed again, pulling the covers back and climbing on to it. “Really. That’s rather unique to an alchemical product.”

His eyes flicked to her, a raised eyebrow gifted to her before he returned to his reading. “Not precisely. If you recall, some of the more advanced potions can seem to sense if you aren’t sure of yourself and will turn sour from one misstep. It might not be all measured science. It is an art, after all.”

Hermione covered her lap with the duvet and sat next to him. She was utter intrigued. Not only was it something she knew very little about, but Hermione had never been in any kind of relationship with a man who would read in bed, let alone one that would read books on theories.

With Ron, the bed was for sleep, or- _other things…_

But here was Severus, composed and comfortable, reading a book that many would get lost in like it was a nothing.

The swell of warmth in her washed away a lot of the previous anxiety.

“I suppose you might laugh at me if I ask you to read it to me?” Hermione asked, leaning toward him.

Severus lifted his left arm, welcoming her into his space. He drew it around her, holding the book with his right hand. “I don’t know, you will have to ask to find out.”

Hermione placed her head into the crook between his neck and his shoulder. “Will you read it to me?”

He smiled. Hermione could feel it against her forehead.

“Can you keep from being an insufferable know-it-all and correcting the obvious errors in the theories?” He drawled, using his teaching voice.

Hermione laughed, earning a look from him. “I think I can.”

“Well, then tuck yourself in, and I shall start over for you. No sense in tossing you into formula without foundation.” Severus said with an amused tone, flipping the book back to the first page.

She shifted her face, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Severus.”

He cleared his throat, giving her arm a squeeze. “You are welcome. Now, I expect you to pay attention. There may be a pop quiz later.”

She could tell that his grip was affected by the wound slowly healing from what he’d done. Severus had refused routine treatment, saying that the castle was still drawing on the sacrifice. He’d promised that he’d not let it go longer than needed.

“If I fall asleep, can I be exempt from those chapters.” Hermione yawned, her hand coming to rest over his stomach.

Another rumble of that mighty professor's voice of his rolled into her ears. “I do not tolerate sleeping in my classes, Miss. Granger. However, in this situation, I think I shall allow it.”

“Thank you.” Hermione hummed, adjusting into a comfortable position, her knee pressing into his thigh with the cover between them.

She felt a kiss to her forehead, soft and quick. “Do not go spreading lies about my benevolent nature, I do have a reputation to adhere to.”

“Your secrets are safe with me.” Hermione quipped back, looking at the book with anticipation. Severus was actually going to read to her, and it wasn’t some rubbish fairytale either.

“I expected as much. Now, to begin. Chapter 1 - an introduction…” He began to read to her, his tone even and smooth.

Hermione read along with him for as long as she could before her eyes started to hurt. It was fascinating material, and she was enjoying it. She closed her eyes, listening to him read and feeling his chest rise and fall with his breaths.

It was peaceful, and Hermione felt happy. 

Yes, outside this small space, the world hurt, and she didn’t want to deal with it. 

But right here, right now, there was happiness. It felt right. 

So right that everything before this moment felt wrong and incomplete.

Hermione fell asleep, smiling.


	39. Something in the darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

She’d made it nearly to the end of chapter three before he heard her snoring against him.

Severus continued for a few more lines, ensuring that she was genuinely asleep, closing the book with his right hand, and setting it on the bedside table.

With a flick of his wand, the lights dimmed, until only the fireplace's light in her sitting room flicked into the room. 

Severus held her, listening to her peaceful slumber and considering the situation he found himself in.

This was not where he thought things would end up. Never in his life did he entertain that anything between him and Hermione would feel like this.

He didn’t even have words to adequately describe whatever this current situation was and that for him was something he wanted to rectify sooner rather than later.

He had every intention of going out on an excursion to the bookstore over the weekend.

She hummed in her sleep, adjusting against him. Her hand fell into his lap, and Severus grasped it, kissing the back of it before returning it to his chest.

 _When did I become so openly affectionate with her?…_ He thought, his hand brushing through the wild curls.

At first, it had been for her comfort.

It had been to ensure that she was getting the positive touch that she needed to start associating contact with comfort and safety and not- not Ron’s abuse. Now, Severus felt as if he needed it to. Severus would admit to himself, and only himself, that he had such a strong urge to be in contact regularly that it surprised him. Whenever she was open to it, Severus would touch her.

It was as if he needed to affirm she was actually there.

Severus could understand that notion, however. More than once, his dreams had painted that this was a dream and that he was still lonely in this grand castle. 

Had he known he was lonely, before Hermione came back to his life.

_Not really._

But now he knew that he would feel the absence as savagely as a dagger to the gut if she left. 

It was why he was still worried about her not unpacking anything into the room. He knew that she was always ready to run. While it was a troublesome thought before, it frightened him now.

His attachment to her had woven into this warm golden cord wrapped around his heart. She had its end in her hands. It was nothing compared to the obsessive infatuation that he’d had for Potter’s mother. 

Severus had reflected on the difference between the situations quite a bit in his journal. It had been invaluable in helping his sort through the rubble of his own life and emotions.

Hermione interrupted his thoughts again, her head shifting to press against his neck. He ignored the pressure for a moment, through the discomfort that lingered from having his scars touched.

It would always be sensitive, there were too many nerves there for it to be otherwise.

“Hermione.” He whispered, shifting his arm to move her head when it became too much.

A sleepy hum was his answer.

“I think it prudent we lay down now.”

A snore and a smile.

“I am going to move you.”

Severus shifted his arm down to around her waist, lifting and sliding her onto her side of the bed.

“You are safe. It is Severus. I am only laying you down.”

His movements were slow and gentle.

Once he had Hermione's head settled down on the pillow, he sunk into the bed himself.

Her hand reached back at the separation, groping the bed for him. 

A smile crawled over one side of his lips as he shifted to his side. He grabbed her seeking hand and placed it, along with his own on the bed between them.

Her fingers entwined with his in a sleepy grip.

Severus watched as she relaxed again, her snoring growing in intensity until he was sure she was deep asleep. He yawned then, closing his eyes and letting sleep take him. 

* * *

**Greetings Severus,**

**I hope that my letter finds both you and Miss Granger in good health and spirits.**   
**How lovely it is to write a sentence like that, I have to admit.**

**I have some, rather unsettling news for you, old friend.**

**There is something wrong with the Weasley boy. A contact at the Ministry has sought me out for my expertise in particular mind-altering spells. I cannot tell you how much I loathed to go to that dismal island again, but I understand now why it was me that they ushered in under cover of night and in secrecy.**

**Something is wrong with the boy, and I was not able to determine what. It is nothing like what I have seen the Dark Lord do before. It is something beyond my experience or outside of my knowledge, potentially both. The Dementors aren’t actually affecting him. It’s like there is some kind of withering on his body that still protects the mind.**

**While I have no care for him, if he has been bewitched or drugged, he may get out of his attempt on Miss Granger’s life. We do not want this, I am sure.**

**I seek your advisement, and should you be able to promise to not murder him and end up locked up yourself, I’d like you to come to take a look at him.**

**With my highest regards,**   
**Lucius Malfoy**

* * *

**Dear Professor S. Snape,**

**I was informed that your testimony on Tuesday was permitted to the records and authorized by the minister of magic himself. The presiding Judge requires you to attend the formal hearing on Monday. He states that you must do this without the cover of invisibility and be present to be sworn in at the beginning.**   
**I look forward to seeing you on Monday, and if you have any questions, do not hesitate to owl me. Please show up in court attire and arrive fifteen minutes early for standard scanning of hexes and curses by the DMLE.**

**Ever at your service,**

**K. Greengrass**

* * *

  
**Severus,**

**I know you must have a million things on your plate at the moment, with the trial and your students and Miss Granger, but I have to share something spectacular with you.**

**I MADE A BREAKTHROUGH!**

**It is small and not cause for a worldwide celebration, but it is enough that these past four years of work are starting to look up. I was able to replicate the problem in a lab on a Doxie and then reverse it. Now I know the anatomy is astronomically off, the size is all wrong, but it is proof of concept.**

**I am over the moon. IT IS POSSIBLE.**

**I have attached the formula used and the results. They are, as per usual, for your eyes only.**

**I’m so close, Severus, I can taste it.**

**Here is hoping that you are doing well and that this letter finds you well.**

**-Artimis**

* * *

C **ourts Grant Granger Divorce**  
 **Wizarding World Sighs In Relief**

  
**I am pleased to be the first to tell the world that the Civil Courts of the Ministry of Magic granted Hermione Jean Granger, formerly Granger-Weasley, a full divorce from her husband, Ronald Bilius Weasley on the grounds of abuse and infidelity.**

**As promised, I was able to interview Miss Granger as soon as she left the Ministry. She was tear-full with joy and perhaps the happiest I had seen her since the beginning of this saga unveiled before the public eye.**

**It seemed the Wizarding World had come to show it’s support for the witch, as the main halls were filled to the gills on Monday morning. It was so much so that Miss Granger and her escort, Mr. Severus Snape, had to move under cover of an invisibility cloak to get out of the building.**

**Romilda Vane: Hermione, how do you feel?**

**Hermione Granger: I’m amazed and grateful. I can’t believe it.**

**RV: So, what actually happened in the courtroom today? We weren’t allowed in, of course.**

**HG: The Judge called everyone up, reviewed testimony, asked many questions, and then, with even a recess, granted the divorce. He was eager to get us out of his court, it seemed.**

**RV: I know you want to get to the privacy of Hogwarts and let this all settle, but I have to ask you this, what now?**

**HG: I- I’m not sure. I just had an anchor removed from my life, and I can start moving forward.**

**RV: Professor, do you mind if I ask you-**

**Severus Snape: You get one question, Miss Vane, do not watch it with insipid or vapid thoughts.**

**RV: Right, one question. Give me a moment. You are known for your private nature and desire to stay out of the public eye, why did you help Hermione Granger?**

**SS: Because, Miss Vane, contrary to popular belief, I do know the difference between right and wrong, just and unjust. Hermi- Miss Granger suffered, and what I witnessed was a great injustice, and I was not about to let the courts, which are not known for their benevolence toward the fairer sex, lock her into a hell that no man should put a woman through. Is that to your satisfaction, Miss Vane?**

**RV: Um- yes, thank you. Okay, Hermione, anything else?**

**HG: Thank you, Romilda, for everything.**

**RV: You’d do it for me if we were in different places.**

**HG: In a heartbeat. And one more thing.**

**RV: Yes?**

**HG: Forgive me Severus, this one indulgence.**

**SS: I have forgiven many already what is one more.**

  
_**A photo flickers over the magazine page, moving as if in real-time. It is an image of Hermione Granger tilting up to her tiptoes, her arms slipping around Severus Snape’s neck. Their lips meet, and he cradles her to him, one hand gently caressing her face. Their eyes both closed as if the world around them had faded away in that instant, and only each other remained. Her hand nestled at the back of his head, him leaning into her drawing touch. His hand supported her back with a light grip on the fabric of her robe. When the kiss broke, they were staring at each other, both slightly flush and totally involved in only each other.** _

  
**RV: Oh, well, alright, then. Thank you, readers, for following this case so closely, and I am going to leave before I am summarily hexed for seeing this. This is Romilda Vane for Witch Weekly, and it seems that Hermione Granger might be on her way to starting her life over again, on her terms.**

Severus sighed as he finished the First-Ever Special Monday Edition of Witch Weekly that Minerva handed to him on her way to the Great Hall.

He and Hermione had decided that a more private dinner was in order. Hermione was sitting next to his desk in his rooms. 

He could tell that she was blushing. She buried her face into his shoulder, her glasses in her hand, and he could hear her soft chuckle. It seems she had read the article over his arm.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself.” He groused affectionately at her, wrapping his arm around her.

She lifted her face barely from his shoulder, her words slipping into his ear. “Would you be angry if I said I was?”

Severus ran his hand up and down her back, shaking his head.

He snorted, setting the open magazine on his desk and lifting her head chin with his other hand so that he could see her face.

“If you had not been so high on positive emotions at the time, I might be upset, but I suppose if it makes you happy, you can sully my reputation.”

He was not lying, he would let her run rampant over it if it made her smile and feel more like herself. He felt like he was watching her slowly come out of her shell, dipping her toes in this new life's water. He had no intention of doing anything to make her recluse again.

It wasn’t as if Severus did not see the kiss coming. No, it was one of those moments where he knew what was coming and let it crash down on him like a wave of fire. He knew they were going to be photographed, and part of him wanted to make sure that if Ron Weasley saw this picture that it would show that Severus was taking his ex-wife’s breath away.

He felt a hot flush go up to his neck as Hermione touched his cheek.

Hermione looked at him, her face breaking into a sunshine smile. “Severus, you are blushing.”

He rebuked her look, craning his head back to give her a most severe scowl. “Miss Granger, it is hot in here, you are in my close proximity, and I am in wool. I am not blushing.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” She could barely abate the laughter that he saw playing in her eyes.

  
He let her chin go, rubbing his forehead and sighing. This had the potential of being very bad for them. Public displays of affection were not something he was keen on, and in their positions as teachers, it was their job to make sure that they were thinking of the message they were sending to the students. No doubt, they would be bombarded the next day with questions from the student body and potentially staff.

“In the future, I do suggest you will remember that we are still under the very perceptive eye of our student body. Who now is going to run rampant with the ideas that this article has supplanted.” Severus whispered, turning so that his lips were moving against her forehead.

He felt her shift against him. “I know. Is it wrong that I find I don’t care what they think?”

He thought about it for a moment. Severus himself honestly didn’t care what a group of pubescent children thought of the two of them. As long as they were able to do their best to keep their professional duties separate. This private life that he was building with her was for them alone, and he didn't wish the public eye into as it had been with her and her ex-husband.

“As long as you remember that we are staff and need to conduct ourselves properly and appropriately for the children in our charge. And for the parents who expect us to set fine examples for them.” Severus offered sternly, hoping that she understood what he was trying to impress upon her.

Hermione’s face turned serious, and she looked at him. “I said I didn’t care what they think about what they read in the magazine, Severus, not that I was going to kiss you soundly in front of the whole of the student body during dinner.”

“Very true. Dare I ask why your Gryffindor daring decided to show itself this afternoon?”

Hermione’s face shifted to thought, and he found that he enjoyed the look of her mind at work. Being with Hermione, spending time grading and talking with her, had shown him that she was very much the brightest witch he’d ever known. She could keep up with him in nearly every subject that they crossed. In those that she could not, instead of shutting down like others may have, she asked questions and good ones at that. He could not remember a time when the conversation was so intellectually stimulating.

  
“Aside from the fact that I was so happy and my feelings for you, I’m not sure. When the divorce was final, and our magics were unbound from each other, I felt- something wake up.” Her words trailed off, her eyes growing distance as some train of thought seem to sweep her away. 

He watched her face, her eyes flicking back and forth as if she were trying to calculate something or unravel it.

“It felt like- like someone opened a cage door, and I stepped out. I can’t- something happened. I- The pressure isn’t there anymore. I didn’t realize it was, but- it’s like something let go of me. I’m free.” Hermione breathed, her face scrunched, and Severus tried to follow her but was only getting one segment of the conversation.

“Perhaps, you elaborate on what part of you feels this. Is it emotional, physical, or magical?” Severus questioned. 

Something in the back of his mind started tingling like there was something more here, something that he had missed. The conversation shifted from the playful teasing that had centered their interactions, to analytical discovery.

“All of it, and something else.” Hermione’s brown eyes focused on his. “It almost feels like a curse was lifted. But, I would have known if I were cursed, it would have shown up on someone’s scans. It would have- oh no.”

Severus shifted from his arm around her to facing her fully, looking for an explanation.

“You know how marriage magic works, right?” Hermione asked, her face suddenly haunted.

Severus shook his head, it was never something he felt the need to look into. He knew that a magical marriage tied the magic of two people together, but the individual details were never something he was interested in.

“As I have never been married, nor had the prospects for such, I do not. What am I missing?” Severus asked her.

Hermione stood abruptly, her glasses being perched back on to her nose. She started to pace, and he could see that the wheels were turning behind her eyes. One arm crossed over her chest, holding her elbow as the other hand touched her lips.

“It’s not impossible, but- how? When?” Hermione whispered to herself. 

Severus was not ever fond of being left out in the cold when it came to anything, but this, for some reason, stirred a pot of anxiety in his belly.

“Hermione, please speak in complete sentences.” He managed to contain the growl, looking at her expectantly.

It was enough to shake her from her pacing, and he was grateful for it. Hermione looked at him and waited for some kind of concrete explanation from her.

She rubbed her chin, frowning. “Sorry, I just- what if it is a curse.”

“I would have noticed long before this.” Severus offered, having run many scans for such over her whole being. If she’d been cursed, it was something that avoided detections and showed no outward signs.

“Not if the curse wasn’t on me, Severus.” Hermione stamped her foot impatiently as if he were the student speaking out of turn. It would have been amusing if it were for the gut feeling that was causing trepidation.

He tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow while trying to keep his composure. “And then how would you be affected.”

Hermione took up pacing again, this time, her hands moving as she spoke. “Ron’s magic and mine were bound together. A tie that was severed today. And today, for the first time in a long time, I feel more like myself.”

He observed her sweeping back and forth across his living space, her pace increasing as she talked. “Go on.”

“It sounds mad, positively bonkers, but what if someone cursed Ron and affected me too? What if there is more to what was going on with him than his broken heart over losing his brother, his addictions, and his poor temper?” She stopped, looking at Severus for answers, yet, he had none. 

This was a type of magic that he knew almost nothing about it. It was old, tradition, and many other things, but other than that, he’d no idea what it was capable of.

“Can a marriage bond act that way?” He asked in earnest.

The pacing started again. Severus swore he was going to be seasick by the time she was done carving a groove into the stone floors.

“I’ve never heard of it, but in theory, why wouldn’t it. Magic is magic, if you have a connection, like Harry and Tom Riddle, you could affect both.” Hermione exclaimed like she was making discoveries as she spoke.

For all he knew, she was.

Severus was not, however, keen on her making the connection between her and her ex-husband to that of the Dark Lord and Harry Potter. It was a different kind of magic to his understanding. “I would not go so far as to make that comparison, but I am following.”

She waved her hand at him as if she were trying to quiet him while she was thinking. Severus had never seen Hermione in this frenzy of thought before. He’d seen her try to solve problems; he’d seen her in an academic environment, but never like this. 

It was intriguing and frightening at the same time.

“If Ron was or is under a curse, it could have been affecting me. It could have- but how would no one have noticed. His work checked for curses regularly.” Hermione asked, working herself up more to the point where she was breathing heavier. 

_Was she working herself into a panic?…_ He thought.

It caused him to move for his seat, both of his hands catching her shoulders as he grabbed her gaze. He had an idea but be needed more information before he proceeded. If her theory on this was correct, then Lucius’s letter might have had some merit. 

“Hermione, I need you to stand still for a moment and breath. Think about what you feel like right now, and then think about how you felt this morning. Tell it to me.”

He began to exemplify the type of breathing he wanted her to do. He needed her to slow down first of all.

She followed his example, closing her eyes and taking deep, slow breaths, following the pattern. 

It wasn’t all that uncommon now, for then to stand there, breathing at each other as he sought to calm her.

Hermione finally seemed to have her bearings, and she started speaking quietly. “I feel- like a door was opened. My magic feels stronger, almost like I’d been missing some and didn’t notice. I don’t feel as dark inside. It still hurts, I mean, if I think too hard, I could surely cry, but, it’s not the same pressure.” 

Severus held her shoulders still, in part to ground her, in part to keep her from starting her pacing again.

“Mhmm. Can you remember how you felt this morning.”

He watched her face crinkle and distort as she seemed to try to think back. It seemed she was having some difficulty.

“It’s hard to contrast, I mean, I felt like I was walking to my doom. I felt trapped. I didn’t feel this much magic, but I don’t know.”

He would have to try another way. One that he was not sure she trusted him enough for.

It was a power he’d abused in the past, and Hermione would be in her rights to tell him, no, but he had to ask anyway.

“Hermione, may I have permission to look deeper?” Severus asked her quietly, now looking at their shoes. He still felt some shame for using her projected thoughts against her in the past, and he was not ready for her to tell him that he was not allowed to look in her mind.

“Look- oh- I- Severus, I don’t want you to see what I’ve been-” She began to backpedal, and he let her step away from him.

He interrupted her with his hand up between them. “I will only look at this morning. I will not violate your privacy again.”

“Do you promise.” He heard the worry in Hermione’s voice.

He lifted his face, meeting her eyes with sincerity. “I swear it.”

She looked away for a moment, swallowing back something before she nodded. “Alright, just this morning.”

Severus took her hand now, guiding her back to the desk. He wanted her to be comfortable and be someplace that if there was something wrong, she’d not fall to the floor and hit her head again.

“I need you to sit and focus on this morning, think about waking up, think about how you got ready, nothing else. It will make the memory stronger for me.” He instructed, guiding her into the chair.

Hermione worried her lip, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

“I promise I will not look at more than this.”

She nodded at him, closing her eyes. “I know. I’m nervous.”

“Understandable. Focus on memory.” Severus whispered, taking a step back and readying his wand.

He waited, watching as she breathed and calmed herself. “I’m ready.”

“ _Legilimens_.”

He saw himself through her eyes. He was asleep on his back, and Hermione was watching him sleep. The sun had not yet begun to shine.

He could feel that she felt warmth in her chest, and Severus had to stop focusing on the memory itself and instead shift through how she felt then.

It was definitely jumbled, positive feelings pressing down more negative anxieties. Severus had to stop and let her feelings become his, clearing through the noise. 

It was familiar, like other emotions he’d sifted through before. Worry, anxiety, fear, revulsion, self-loathing, disbelief.

And then it wasn’t normal. Severus could feel what she meant by the pressure. Everything felt like it was muted, or chained down suddenly. He paid attention to what Hermione was doing in the memory at the time.

She’d been kissing his forehead when everything contracted and seem to be drawn down. But it wasn’t the negative emotions that were pressing it, it was as if the positive feelings were being dragged into an inky depth below the surface of what he could even determine.

It unsettled him.

Breaking the spell, Severus took a step back, shaking his head from the sensations that he’d felt.

_Perhaps her theory was more than an idea..._

While Severus was sure there were, of course, trauma responses that could do the same thing, that felt like magic. 

“I see.”

Hermione’s face was ashen like she’d seen a ghost. “Did you feel that too?”

“I did. Did you normally feel that.” He nodded, still trying to unravel it and hoping she had some more insight.

The rapid shaking of her head told him that she knew about as much as him about it. “I never noticed it, I don’t know.”

Severus knew what he had to do now. He’d not replied to Lucius yet, he wasn’t sure that he’d control his temper around the redheaded oaf. But now, with this revelation. This idea that some curse on the man could have affected Hermione all this time, he needed more information. 

He’d need Lucius to take him to Azkaban. 

**Tonight.**

Severus went to his desk, pulling out the letter. He tucked it into his pocket and began to tuck a few potions into his breast pockets.

Some restoratives, a pepper-up, a tonic that could remove the fear, and some panic puff, just in case he reached that point.

He could see that she was nervous by his rapid movements and so he began to quickly explain.

“Hermione, I have to go somewhere tonight. And I will be in a poor mood likely when I return. I do not know when I will return, be it tonight, or in the morning, but I will return to you. I want you to go to your journal, that I hope you’ve been using and read back. Look for clues that you felt like this.”

“Where are you going?” Her voice wobbled with fear and worry.

He stopped, looking at her because no one had ever asked him where he was going with such care, such open affection and concern. “An old friend of mine my have some insight on this and had already asked me a favor. It will not be dangerous.”

“Promise?” Her brown eyes begged him for some reassurance.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Hermione, I promise. Now, you may sleep here in my rooms if you wish, or your own. I will let you know when I get back.”

Severus moved around the desk, heading to the fireplace, intent on flooing direct to Lucius so that they could act as quickly as possible.

She grabbed his arm. “Severus.”

“Yes.” He looked at her, grabbing a handful of the sooty black powder.

Hermione stood on her toes again, kissing his lips gently. “Be careful.”

Severus smiled at her, stepping into the floo.

“I will. Malfoy Manor!”

  
And with that, he left her behind, her worried face sticking with him.


	40. Dawning on  Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.

She found herself lost without his evening presence.

Hermione had paced a great deal in his rooms, trying to soothe the worry that had decided to take up residence in her chest, but it persisted.

Finally, after a great deal of self argument, she went to her own rooms, doing what he had asked of her.

Hermione pulled the blue journal out of her bag, taking it to her chair in the sitting room. She’d written a great deal in since Severus had gifted it to her. That didn’t mean Hermione was sure what she was looking for. There was so much she had written about. 

So she started at the beginning. 

Her first entries in the book were hastily scribbled like she could not write fast enough to keep up with her mind. She remembered the time, secluding herself for two weeks in her rooms, trying to get everything down and out. Hermione could read the panic in her words, sense the driving need for something.

It almost embarrassed her, because it was a vague memory of writing and yelling and crying. 

Her words preserved everything. She was afraid.

It was different than the fear she felt now; this was some battle for her sanity that this poor notebook had been the referee for. 

A passage stuck out to her.

  
_“… I cannot rest. When I sleep, I see it, the great chasm that waits for me. It is like a darkness that I cannot escape, and it follows me like the hounds of hell. Every cry powers it; every moment I let the words of what I have endured and survived to affect me, it grows stronger. I fear that I will not be strong enough to escape its clutches one day, and from there, what manner of monster will I become. Part of me fears it is what made Bellatrix, the kind of unending madness that consumes and destroys. I can not let it win, I cannot let it know that I fear it or feel any pain. It will haunt me, lingering under every step, waiting for me to trip until I am consumed. I have to break free of it, I have to separate the pain from the fact, and I have to know my truth. Only my truth, my facts, and emotional distance will save me from the monster in my dreams. I cannot look at it, for it is the void, and I once read that looking into it, allows it to look into you. I cannot rest, I will never be able to rest again…”_

It sent shivers down her spine because she knew what she was talking about.

It was a plague that had held her captive and ill for so long. She remembered feeling that open blackness at her heels. She closed her eyes for a moment, not thinking of anything but the words. 

  
Hermione searched herself, seeking out that void that she had written so passionately about that it had nearly driven her to mania. And its place, Hermione, found nothing.

It was **gone.**

She stood, starting to circle the chairs as she thought of the implication of this.

Was it not her depression, which she still felt pressing against her ribcage at the mere mention of it?

If it was not her own mind trying to undo her, then what was it?

Why was it? 

It was not a new sensation, Hermione could remember feeling it when she’d gone back to him.

Every time she went back to him, it was worse. When she was going from it was there, a gaping hole waiting for her to give in and sink to it.

What was it?

Hermione stopped, mid-step, thinking, trying to remember when she first felt like she would fall into it.

Everything slowed.

It was the first time she left.

Months after she’d left, Hermione had been beginning her life anew.

She’d been happy, her work was fulfilling. She and Romilda had started to push for laws that helped beings that deserved equal rights get the recognition they deserved.

Everything then felt good.

It was the last time that Hermione remembered feeling good about what she was doing, about herself.

She’s been away from him for nearly a year.

It was an accident that they’d even seen each other. He’d been back from the World Cup in the States for only a few hours. Ron was celebrating with some of his co-workers from his department at a local haunt.

She’d been having a drink with Romilda, and two co-workers from her department, unwinding from another long week of pushing for change.

Their eyes met, and there was something different. Hermione tried to ignore him, but she couldn’t.

_Was it a compulsion?..._

She didn’t think so at the time. She remembered that she thought maybe Molly had been right and that it would be different now that they had had some space. 

And he’d only hit her the one time, the time that she left. He probably had learned his lesson.

But that was not when the darkness had shown up.

It had been earlier than that, but not by much, maybe a few days. 

Hermione was in a courtroom, working on the goblin reformation act. It came on suddenly, like a stomach ache, but she pushed it back, thinking it was cramps and mood swings coming. 

Hermione had never ever once felt that it was something more.

But now that she was looking back with a clearer mind, something was wrong. Something had been haunting her, and she didn’t know why or how it got there. All she knew is that it had been a driving force behind her, always chasing her to some destination. 

_Was it madness?..._

Hermione felt fear again. Suddenly she felt like she was out of her league like there was something else going on.

But what?

Why?

  
If someone had cursed Ron and it had affected her like this, why?

What could someone have to gain from this, what could possibly be a goal?

And who would done have it?

_Was Molly capable of such magic?..._

It had been her who was so adamant that they stay together.

She was the driving force behind their marriage, she had been the one that kept sending her back.

What would Molly have to gain from her being with Ron, even when she knew Ron was destroying her.

_Could Molly be so cold?..._

Hermione knew in her heart that Molly was not the kind woman that many painted her. Fleur and she both knew what it was like to be the one that Molly ostracized.

If you did not follow the rules that she’d set forth, Molly could make your life hell.

But, would she have stooped to this level?

To curse her beloved son?

And if it was a curse, what did it do to Ron? 

Could it have been a driving force behind everything that had happened?

Could he have been outrunning the same darkness as she and instead of them fighting it together, it had destroyed them?

Was she the target, or was she unaccounted for casualty?

  
She started writing. 

Hermione began to writing everything that she could remember that seemed out of place. She stopped, and she went over all the things that hurt and those that didn’t and tried to do what she did best.

Find a pattern, a connecting link, something that was more than just supposition and guessing.

Hermione barely heard the floo, as she paced and wrote and demanded that her brain figure out the problem.

There was no problem she couldn’t solve, and she was sure she had all the pieces right in front of her.

_What were the pieces?..._

Molly... Molly had something to do with it. There was no way she didn’t.If not for her, Hermione would have run as soon as he started hitting her again. 

Then again, would she have? As she looked at the past, that void always seemed to take hold of her. It would wrap her in fear when he would even begin to raise his voice.

All the times she thought she wasn’t strong enough, was it because she had her hands tied behind her back?

Ron... Did he know?

Was it a self-imposed curse to make it so that could never leave him?

But why, why if he wanted Maria so bad, why would he have cursed himself to making Hermione stay.

Maria… She and Ron were together during that year, they were supposedly happy, why would she let him go back to Hermione.

What reason? Why would Ron be so madly in love with her but still want to come back to Hermione?

_It didn’t make sense..._

Something was missing, but she felt like she should know what it was.

Hermione snarled in frustration, throwing the book at the table as she paced some more, trying to figure it out. 

What kind of curse could it be, what could do this for so long? 

Her mind ached from the stress, her eyes were painful, but she couldn’t stop. 

It was right there, she knew it, she could feel it, but she couldn’t **see** it.

Whatever the answer to this was, it was just out of her reach, mocking her.

“Hermione?” Severus’s voice broke her concentration.

She whipped around, frustrated. “What?”

“You’re bleeding?” He gestured to her hand.

Hermione was ready to start yelling. “I am no-what?”

  
So she was.

In her fury and pacing, at some point, she must have scratched herself with the quill, never even feeling it. There was a thin line along the outside edge of her palm, blood starting to roll down her wrist. Hermione covered it with her other hand, moving to the bathroom to wash her hands and determine the damage. 

“I’m sorry. When did you get here?” She asked over the water flowing from the taps.

Severus walked to the door, leaning on it the frame. “Over an hour ago. You’ve been gnashing teeth and pacing so intently, I thought it best to let you be.”

Hermione looked at him. His face was pale, exhaustion was written in the lines around his eyes and how he didn’t stand up as straight as he usually did. His shoulders were rounded forward like he was carrying an invisible burden.

She rushed to him, reaching out with the hand that was not drying in a towel.

“Are you okay, are you hurt?”

Severus waved off her concern, his expression weak, but not angry with her. “I am weary, and I am tired. But I promised, I was in no danger.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief. “I, should we go to bed?”

Severus’s eyes moved over her like he was examining her, before peering into her eyes. His dark black eyes looked more distant than expected.

“Would you even be able to lie still, with how you are shaking?” He gestured with one hand.

  
She stopped, taking a breath, realizing she was still trembling with the thoughts that had pervaded her. Wringing the hand with the towel, she looked at Severus with worry and concern. Part of her did not want to tell him what had her in such a stir. But part of her was desperate for his insight.

The latter of the two won out. “I- Severus, I think I know something, but I can’t figure it out.”

“What, Hermione?” Severus asked, stepping back so that she could leave the bathroom without him blocking the door.

She stepped out, trying to think of how to explain to him what she’d thought of what she had discovered. It wasn’t tangible enough, but she had to try.

“Something happened that first year I left him. Something happened to me, maybe to him. It was like, a fear compulsion, but also an addiction to Ron. It doesn’t make **any** sense. I have all the pieces, they are right here-” Hermione pointed angrily to the journal as if it was holding back information from her. “-in front of me, and I can’t figure it out.”

  
Severus sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Maybe then you don’t have all the pieces, just _most_ of them.”

He sounded like he knew more than he was letting on.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

He shook his head, his heavily lidded eyes telling her that he desired nothing more than rest. “I’d rather discuss it more in the morning. Do you want me to stay?”

  
Panic struck her chest, and she felt like she was going to explode from the sudden impact. 

“Yes, please don’t leave me. I’m sorry.” She found herself crying out, grabbing his arm.

Severus looked at her with wider eyes, from her hand to her face. She could tell he was confused, but now also very, very worried. “Hermione, I was only going to go to my rooms to sleep. I’m not leaving you.”

She leaned against, trying to settle the cyclone of emotions that she seemed to have unleashed with her increasingly urgent thinking.

“I know, but I’m afraid. Something is happening, or something has happened or will happen, I’m not sure yet, but I don’t feel safe. If this went on for years and I never noticed, what _else_ is there, Severus?”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. “I don’t know Hermione, but I will help you find it out.”

Hermione took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. But something wasn’t right.

Severus didn’t smell like he usually did. There was this almost rancid tang to the smell of him, mingled dust, and a smell that could only be described as desperation.

She leaned back, putting space between her face and his chest. “Why- why do you smell like _that_?”

“Like what?” He asked, frowned, and smelling his shoulder opposite of her face.

She untangled from him, now, taking another hesitant step back. Something was off about the smell, and it made her stomach flop. It was smelt like something she knew and didn’t want to ever smell again. “Like death, like _death_ and decay and unwashed people.”

He sighed, taking his own step back and shaking his head. His fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I should have showered before I came to you. I didn’t realize it had lingered.”

  
Her suspicion rose in her, like a cobra, fanning, and warning of danger.

“Where did you go, Severus.”

He did not look at her. Instead, he looked to the fireplace and then the bed. “Hermione, can we talk about it in the morning?”

She crossed her arms, leaning back on one foot.

“ _Where_ did you _go_ , Severus?” She asked again, urgently and forcefully.

He whispered in defeat. “Azkaban.”

“Why?” She demanded, her tone growing more suspicious. Why would he go to Azkaban, where Ron was the same day that her divorce had been granted?

“Hermione.” There was a warning in his tone like he was telling her to not push the issue.

The serpent of her suspicion told her it was all the more reason to push. “Why were you at _Azkaban_ , Severus?”

  
Severus sighed, shifting now to lean against the wall by the opening to the doorway, his teeth gritting. He did not want to have this conversation, and Hermione wanted to know why. “Because Lucius asked me to look at something.”

“What?” Hermione roared impatiently, wanting to know what he was hiding from her.

Severus crossed his arms, standing to his full height now, his dark eyes narrowing at her. 

“Your ex-husband.”

  
Something in her gut dropped. 

Had Severus killed him, was he now on the run, was she about to lose him too…

  
“What happened?” She gasped, the fear hard to keep at bey as she needed more answers to the questions coming.

He looked away for a moment, past her shoulder at the door, like he was organizing his thoughts and making sure Severus said only what he needed. 

“Hermione, I’m not sure yet. But, it seems, your theory _might_ have merit.” He offered, one hand flicking up from the crossed position as if he were granting her a point.

She swallowed hard, taking a step closer, trying to understand what he was saying. “What do you mean?”

A great sigh now, one that told her he was finished resisting her questions. He frowned deeply, looking at her like he was able to deliver the grave and unhappy news.

“Mr. Weasley was in possession of, or rather still is currently, in possession of a cursed item?”

That didn’t make any sense.

How could Ron have something on him, when he was someplace where they took everything from you. She had to know what Severus was talking about.

_How had Ron smuggled a cursed item into Azkaban?..._

“How, they take everything from you at Azkaban.”

He bit his upper lip, closing his eyes as he breathed in deeply through his nose.

“It is a cursed tattoo.” He relented.

Hermione shook her head. “What- but he only has one- _oh gods_.”

  
Hermione turned from him, her mind back to her thoughts from before. His Cannons tattoo, his point of pride across his left breast bone. He’d gotten it when he was in the US after they’d won the world cup that year. He’d come back with it, it was fresh when they had gotten back together, still healing. 

He’d gotten it around the same time the well of darkness seemed to gather at her feet.

“Hermione?” Severus asked her tentatively, his hands out to touch her shoulder.

She spun now, holding her head against the brewing headache.

“Do you think Maria knows how to give cursed tattoos?” Hermione demanded of him, closing the space and looking into his eyes with a plea for answers.

“I- I’m not sure.” He stuttered, obviously surprised.

Hermione felt panic rising up the side of her neck, the serpent of her suspicions now a beast of another master. “I don’t think so either, Severus. And he didn’t get that tattoo here, which means Molly couldn’t have cursed it.”

“How do you know it was cursed before he got back,” Severus questioned, his tone disbelieving.

She looked at him, her face falling. “Because I was cursed before he got back?”

The confusion ran across his face like a hippogriff in flight across the sky. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  
Hermione started pacing again, and she felt like she was going to go mad.

“You know that feeling before something _big_ rolls in.”

Severus answered her, still giving her space. “I do.”

“I can’t shake that feeling.” She admitted, shaking her hands like she was trying to get ink off her fingers, or water.

  
Severus closed the distance, his hand catching her risk, and he looked at her. His eyes were softer, and his face held concern like an offered gift. “Hermione, do not let this work you up. There could be a million explanations that lead to this same conclusion. Until I have more time to remove it from him, I won’t know for sure what it even does.”

She stepped back, taking her wrist from him. “You are going back? _There_?”

“I am, tomorrow night.” He nodded solemnly, his hand returning to his side.

There was a certain sense of dejection in his eyes, but she didn’t have the emotional range to care because all she felt was fear.

Fear of what could happen to him.

What if Ron had smuggled the ring in, and somehow managed to trap Severus in his place.

What if a dementor mistook him for a prisoner, or worse, an escapee.

She trembled, her arms wrapping around her for comfort. “I- I don’t want you to go, what if somethings to you? What if a dementor-”

Severus caught her chin with his index finger, bringing her eyes back to him. “Hermione, breathe.”

She stomped and jerked her head back.

Hermione was yelling now, all the emotions in her mingling and creating this beast she couldn’t control. “I don’t want to breathe damnit, I want to feel safe for once in my _fucking_ life. Since I was eleven years old, I have been running for my life, from Voldemort, from Ron, from myself. And now, I feel safe for just a moment, just a small breath, and the only good fucking thing in my life is _ **you**_ , and you are going to one of the most dangerous places you could go. I can’t, if something happens to you, Severus, I **can’t** -.”

“Nothing will.” He said, seemingly unphased by her burst of outrage.

She threw her hands up in the air, stomping again as if she could bring down the walls around them. “You don’t know **that!** Merlin, one of those dementors could-”

“I think you need to stop and focus.” He held his hands out, palm first. 

There was still a healing line from what he’d done for her son.

It only made her fear worst in her gut.

“Don’t tell me that. Tell me you won’t go.” She demanded, grabbing his arm now, pulling at him as if to keep him there.

He looked away, shaking his head. “Hermione, I promised to help Lucius with this, and I will keep that promise.”

“Tell me, you _won’t_ go!” Hermione demanded of him, yelling that he promise instead to stay and be safe with her.

He looked like his words were paining him. “I cannot.”

“Why?” She cried, feeling everything start to sink, the highest of the emotions threatening to crash down and drown her.

Black eyes met hers, and there was something so substantial in them that it knocked the air out of her lungs. “Because you being angry at me is worth knowing that no one will ever be able to hurt you like this again. If you want me to leave your room, your presence, your side, I will. But I will never let someone hurt you again, Hermione.”

_No. No. No. Severus couldn’t do this for her._

_He couldn’t put himself in danger for her._

_She wasn’t worth it, she wasn’t worth facing dementors._

_She wasn’t worth going to that place._

“Severus, but-” She tried to argue with him, but he cut her off.

His voice rose now, she could hear that he was getting angry.

“No buts- I will do whatever I have to, to ensure that this magic isn’t something that can still reach out and touch you. Even if it means you scream at me and fight me and throw me out of this room right now, I am still going to go. I am still going to figure out who put that curse there and why and I will take care of them myself. Do you understand me, Hermione?”

Hermione didn’t flinch under the volume of his voice.

It was like it wasn’t meant for her, but that still didn’t stop her from wanting to know what he thought she was so damn important that he’d willingly go to hell on earth for her. 

“But why?”

He didn’t hesitate to snap back at her. “Because I _love_ you, you daft woman.”

  
Everything froze.

Hermione could see the moment stop like it was a crystalline figure as his words sunk in.

Something happened in her, something let go.

The anger and fear and confusion seemed to wash down and drop at her feet as something more powerful, something warmer came to the fore.

She looked at him, stunned as he continued to talk, professing things to her that she never in a million years thought he would say to her. 

“I love you, and I will never see you look this scared again. I will **_never_** let another man, woman, beast, or otherwise break who you are. Even if it is me, I will not allow it.” His face shifting as if he were making some decree into the ether, willing something to be as he said it was.

Warmth crawled up her spine, spreading across her back, but she didn’t dare believe the words.

Some broken part of her was quietly whispering that Severus was lying.

“Severus you- you said-”

His hands rested on her shoulders as he leveled her with an open gaze that. “I did, and I will repeat it, and a million more times if it will prove to you that I am serious. I love you, Hermione Granger. And there is not a goddamn thing that is going to change it.”

The air between them fell silent. Hermione stood there, breathing the same air as him, letting the heat rushing from her toes to the top her head take over. Hermione looked into his eyes, searching for the truth. She found only that he was looking at her like he actually saw her. He wasn't looking through her, he was looking at her. At Hermione, at everything she was, and he was not reviled. It was a look she didn’t know well, but it made her chest well.

She didn’t even realize that she’d fallen quiet until his face seemed to start to drop. Her hands caught his cheeks and smiled. 

“I love you too,” Hermione whispered, but it sounded thunderous to her ears.

Severus gave a short relieved laugh as he touched her face. “Oh, _thank Merlin_. Woman, pauses like that can give a man a heart attack.”

  
He kissed her then, and it was fire incarnate. He pulled her close to him, his hands pressing her chest to chest with him, nearly picking her up off of her feet, her toes still on the ground. Hermione held to his shoulders, wrapping her arms around him, her lips parting against his. Every kiss before this had been closed-lipped but affectionate. This was more, his lips taking hers with passion and something more potent. 

Hermione drew back, gasping for air. “Please, don’t ever leave me.”

It was unprompted and desperate, and she felt so ashamed the moment it left her lips.

But Severus laughed, and it wasn’t at her as he settled her down on her feet again.

“I don’t think I could if I _wanted_ to.” He admitted, pressing his forehead to hers.

Hermione tilted her eyes up to meet his. “Do you want to?”

Severus shook his head, drawing back from her once more. His face was flush and no longer as pale as it had been. “Absolutely not. Now, may I go shower, so you do not have to sleep next to a man that smells of death and unwashed masses.”

Hermione let him go, looking around the room as she tried to equalize herself with all the emotion that she’d been through in such a short time. It left her breathless and tired, but she wasn’t sure if the breathless was from the emotions or the kiss.

“Go on. I’ll, just, clean up all this.” Hermione gestured to the thrown journal and quills and drops of her blood that she’d not noticed before.

Severus tipped his head to her and moved back to the fireplace. “I will be right back. Do not work yourself into another frenzy.”

“Mhmm,” Hermione said, closed-lipped as she grabbed her journal.

Severus took a stern tone. “I _mean_ it.”

“I’ll be fine. Go so you can come back.” Hermione urged, and he did as she asked.

  
As soon as the fire flashed back to normal, she stopped cleaning and stood there for a moment, disbelieve and wonder rushing through her veins.

_He loves me…_


	41. Under the Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> TW: Blood, skin removal, surgery type stuff

The events of the night before still bothered him. 

It had not been how he wanted to tell her. 

It was the exact opposite of how Severus wanted to tell Hermione how he felt about her.

She deserved more, not the angry professions of a man who just wanted to sleep.

He’d have to make it up, do something special.

Severus was not a romantic man, he knew it, but he also knew that it wasn’t all about him.

Hermione likely felt bereft that the first time he’d told her the true nature of his feelings for her, that he was yelling it.

What a foolish thing to do, to yell at her knowing her history with her abusive excuse for an ex-husband. 

Even a day later, he was still not content with himself for it. Something would have to be done to make it right for her.

He’d have to put thought into it and make it memorable.

  
“Severus, look like you’ve just sampled a rather fresh lemon?” Lucius interrupted him.

The man was in rather understated robes when you took into account his usual attire. Severus supposed it because the man expected blood to be involved. It was a likely prospect.

He fixed his face, an impassive line drawn across it. “Ah, well, this situation is quite like one, yes?”

The tall blond man agreed, tucking his wand into his cane. “Well put. Are you ready?”

“To go back to Azkaban, never, to leave, yes,” Severus grumbled, taking in a deep breath through his nose.

It was not going to be any more pleasant tonight that last night. In fact, Severus reckoned that it would more so. He would have to conceal his current dilemma.

Unrest was like a glass of wine to those beasts.

“We won’t be going to Azkaban tonight, Severus?” 

Severus turned to look at the older man. “Explain.”

His concern was waved off, Lucius checking himself in a mirror above the fireplace.

“You don’t do something as delicate as this in prison.”

Severus felt his eyes narrow. “Lucius, where are we going?”

His suspicion was answered with a short bark of laughter and a haughty smile. “St. Mungos. He’s already transported by now.”

That sat poorly in Severus’s crawl.

St. Mungos did not have the kind of security that he felt could keep the boy in. “And if he escapes again and makes another attempt on my witch- Hermione’s life.”

A smile curled over the man’s lips as he turned and looked at Severus. “I heard that. I doubt his current guard will allow that.”

“You heard nothing. What have you been up to all day.” Severus rebutted, his lips thin in protest.

Lucius chuckled, reaching out and touching Severus’s wool clad arm. “Making arrangements to keep ‘your witch’ safe.”

“Lucius.” Severus threatened. He’d not be mocked on this, not when he felt as he did.

“Oh come off, your secret is safe with me.”

“Me too.” A female voice called from behind them.

Severus had not checked to make sure that they were alone, and now he regretted it immensely.

Lucius turned to look at his wife, sitting on the settee, a copy of Witch Weekly in her hands. “Cissa, darling, you know it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“I’m in **MY** sitting room Lucius, you want privacy, go to your office.” The thin woman replied, not even looking up at either of them.

Lucius gave Severus a look of exasperation, shaking his head before looking back to his wife. ”Very well. We shall return my darling, please, do not wait up.”

His reply was a chuckle, Narcissa Malfoy giving her husband an incredulous look.“And lose valuable hours of beauty rest. I adore you, darling, but not that much. Go on, both of you. You are ruining the ambiance of my relaxing evening.”

“Goodbye, Narcissa,” Severus said with a nod.

He took his place next to Lucius in the floo as the man threw down the powder.

In a flash of green, they found themselves standing in a small waiting room.

They’d bypassed the entrance completely, which was something that Severus thought was not possible. He’d have to ask about it later.

“Delightful, right on time. The patient is already asleep.”

Severus turned to see someone he did not expect.

Artimis Shade was standing there, not in her usual lime robes, but charcoal ones.

Her long brown hair had been braided, but she’d then wound it on the back of her head, seemingly to keep it out of the way.

“Artimis.” He greeted, bowing his head.

Her thin lips shifted to a smile at seeing him. “Severus.”

“I was not expecting you.” He explained, looking at Lucius, speaking volumes of his displeasure in being left in the dark.

“Certainly. However, I am invested in this situation, and it was my clinical lab that was best suited for this work. I have certain protections to keep disasters to a minimum.” Artimis offered, allowing Lucius to take her hand and place a kiss on it.

Severus grumbled. “A spark of brilliance on Lucius’s part?”

Lucius let her hand go, finally looking at Severus with a teasing grin. “Nonsense, I simply reached out to the young woman, she made arrangements.”

Artimis leaned forward, breaking apart the staring contest by getting into Severus’s line of vision.

He looked at her, noticing that her hands were now clasped, twisting in a nervous motion.

Severus assessed her. Her body was closed off, and she seemed to draw back once she had both of their attention. It wasn’t fear, but Severus could clearly notice that she was nervous.

“Yes, and those arrangements come with some caveats, I am afraid.”

“Go on.” Severus urged, wondering at the cause for her nerves.

The young mediwitch sighed and looked at the doors behind her. “I have two experts on hand to assist us with this work. I am warning you both that they are eccentric, and I know they will rub you, especially you Severus, the wrong way. But they are experts in this, and we will not get as far without them.”

“And you are asking what of us?” Lucius got to the question before Severus could issue it.

Healer Shade’s face shifted to something more stern. “Please treat them with civility. Don’t take them to heart, and for the love of Morrigan, do not start a fight with them.”

“If you are so worried, why to have them at all,” Severus asked her curious why she would consult others.

Artimis was known for her problem solving and her sometimes inability to play well with others in a field that required that skill.

“I am not an expert here, Severus. While this touches on some of my skills, not enough that I feel comfortable enough on my own. I know my limits.” She offered, her hands tucking into her pockets.

He could see that it bothered her to admit as much. He could respect it; however, it showed the maturity in her that many were still striving for.

“I thought you were limitless.” Lucius teased, and Severus gave him a glare.

Artimis smiled at this, shrugging. “Only when it comes to my own safety, there is a lot you will learn in the next few moments that will make you understand. I simply ask your word.”

“I give you my word that I shall not scare off your experts,” Severus swore.

Lucius piggybacked on his words. “As do I.”

Her face cracked into a smile, and she turned to walk toward the doors. “Splendid. Follow me. Weasley is under Draught of the Living Death, he’s not going to get up until we give him the antidote, but there are still two Aurors on hand, and my husband should something go awry.”

“Connerie is here, too?” Lucius looked worried. Severus wasn’t sure why.

The woman gave them a dangerous Slytherin smile over her shoulder. “You think my husband is going to leave me in a room with a wife-beater and baby killer? He would not have it. Granted, if he’d known you were coming, he’d likely be more relaxed on his notion of protecting me, but alas, he was on a need to know basis. He even sought special authorization through Mr. Malfoy’s contact at the ministry to be assigned.”

“I see.”

  
Before more could be said, the doors were pushed open with a flick of the woman’s wand. It opened into a very odd-looking room for a wizarding hospital. It looked much more like a hybrid of muggle and wizard, with a lot of steel and its rather sterile feel. Severus nodded to Shamus as he came into the door.

At the end of the room, there was a table that Weasley was lying on. In full Auror regalia, behind it was Potter and Cormac Mclaggen, a boy that Severus remembered having a rather bad attitude. The two of them seemed to be having a heated discussion but stopped as soon as they saw them coming into the room.

They were not the most out of place things in the room, however. A curvy woman was looking over Weasley, who’d been stripped to the waist. She was in what looked like shredded black leggings as if she’d been in a fight and lost and a shirt that was barely a shirt. Her hair was the color of candy floss, and her visible skin, which there was a lot of, was covered in tattoos.

The young man who’d been squatting next to her looked at them, giving her an elbow to her side. He had a partially shaved head with bright blue hair and a face full of piercings. His arms were bare, his shirt looking like the sleeves had been torn off by the same beast that had attacked the woman’s pants, showing full sleeves of tattoos.

Severus did not like the look of them immediately.

“Allow me to introduce Arabella and Rax-” Artimis began, but the woman walked up to her, holding her hand into Artimis’s space.

“No, no, my name is Arabella, but you can call me Kate, everyone does. You two must be the ministry blokes who need this poor sod looked at.” She said, one hand on her hip. Her face was also covered in piercings, including one that went from her eyebrow to nose to lip.

Artimis bit her lip, and Severus could tell that it was not just him that she was worried about scaring them off.

Shade cleared her throat, placing her hand on the woman’s arm. “Kate, this is Severus and Lucius. I want you to explain to them what you and Rax told me.”

“Oh yeah, sure doll. Gotta say, like the man in black, that is a nice get up.” The woman said, pointing to Severus. 

His face remained the same unimpressed scowl.

“Alright, gents, pull yourself over here. Rax, get your tool set up over there, we will be starting soon.”

“The man stood up, and Severus realized how tall he was. This man had to be at least seven and a half feet tall. But he was thin like someone had stretched him out. His clothing was baggy, but it looked like it might have been on purpose, like the waist of the pants fit, but the rest looked like they’d been expanded with all manner of pockets.

Severus turned his attention back to the woman, coming up to stand next to her.

He passed a look at Potter, who looked like he was cross about something. Potter gave him a small incline of his head, and Severus took it as something to be looked into later.

“So, this is someone’s magnum opus, and if it isn’t, I need to know who they are. This right here is not just one tattoo; it is six, maybe more, because it can be difficult without looking at each layer individually. If this guy had this done in one go, he was out of his gourd. This is maybe 26 hours straight of work. A steady hand, great shading. Too bad it was wasted on something this nasty.” The woman said, her fingers running around the edge of the tattoo. Her fingers nails were long on all but the index and middle finger, painted in black polish.

“Hmm.” Severus offered, wondering if she needed encouragement to continue.

“I’m glad you asked. The top tattoo is what we call a cover. It’s simply made to hide what is under it. No magic other than making sure it doesn’t fade.”

She drew her wand, tapping the tattoo. The light emitted from Ron's tattoo and the orange colors of the tattoo faded back under them. Black and Red lines showed up under it. They were no discernible shape to him, but this Kate seemed intrigued.

“This is the good stuff.” She said, her finger running over a red line, and he could see it light up under it.

“I’ve only ever done a four-layer myself, and that was exhausting. To do this kind of magic, for this long, you need alchemical assistance. No way this was done without it. You see this here, this is the top layer.” She said, showing Severus as she lit up lines with her fingers.

It was like they were responding to the magic and her touch. 

The tall man growled at her, his voice like rocks tumbling in a grinder. “Kate.”

“I’m careful.” She snapped back, shaking her head.

  
The woman went back to touching Weasley, her fingertips making lines light up under the spell. “I don’t think he wanted this done. The first layer is the weakest, meaning it does the least because it is the highest from the dermis. This tat has three 'amps,' you’d want the one you need the least of on top.”

“Amps?” Lucius asked, having come up to stand on the other side of Severus.

“Amplifiers. It’s frowned on really, but has some promise.” She flicked her wand away from Weasely, moving her own shirt's collar to show Severus a circular pattern of lines. “This is a single, mine is a mood booster. His top layer is too, but mine is for positive moods.”

“What does it do?” Severus asked, noticing that the tattoo had turned back into a team tattoo without the light of the woman's wand, the lines vanishing.

“You focus on what you want it to amplify, for example, moods, you have to have the right runes, and then you push the mood or energy or intention, whatever you want to call it, into the ink as you are working it,” Kate explained, showing the hidden lines once more with the blue light from her wand.

Severus wished she’d stop being so chatty and actually explain what they were looking at. “So, what does his do?”

The woman tapped her polished black fingers on the lines again, highlighting a sharp flame symbol.

“Top layer makes him aggressive. I’ve seen in done on street fighters, they want that edge, something that keeps them heated once they tip over into fight mode, something to keep them from calming down until after the fight is over. Pretty nasty, can make the most docile man a beast if you piss him off. Once saw a fight with a guy with two of these, and he nearly tore a guys ear off.” She said, looking over to her partner, who gave a grin and a nod.

He was rolling out a cloth with what looked like small knives.

“Can we focus.” Artimis chimed in, crossing her arms. 

The woman looked at Healer Shade and nodded, looking a bit surprised that she’d not liked the story. “Ah yeah, the board, Arty?”

“Artimis, not everyone needs a nickname,” Artimis warned as she grabbed a rolling blackboard next to them.

“I’m sorry, I will call you your chosen name Artimis.” The woman frowned and nodded in apology. 

She began drawing on the board the symbol she’d just highlighted, placing a number ‘2’ next to it with a circle around it with her off-hand. To it’s left, she wrote ‘Aggression,’ and on it’s right, she wrote ‘Amp.’ Above it, she wrote ‘Cannons’ with a ‘1’ and the word ‘cover.’

She flicked her wand, a blue orb of light now setting over Weasley’s chest. She tucked her wand into her cotton candy hair and put both hands on the spot now. Her fingers began to touch other lines, circles in the mess of lines.

“Now, this second one is a reversal of a pretty common amp, which is scary to me on its own.” Kate’s fingers had highlighted a series of circles, like a reverse bullseye, with two long lines fixed across it, making a plus sign.

Artimis was looking closely. “Why?”

The punk woman’s face seemed to drop for a moment, she looked over to her tall partner. They shared a solemn look for a moment before she began to move her fingers again. 

“Recovering Addicts get this Amp. You take whatever your poison of choice is, and it makes you super sick. You keep doing it, and it wastes you away. It’s what's making him so sick. He’s got the reverse. If he doesn’t indulge in an addiction, his addiction, it makes him sick. It’s killing him, even as we speak. Whoever did this, they wanted to make sure he kept all his vices.” She swallowed hard, and Severus could see that it had made her uneasy.

“How is that possible?” Lucius asked, his tone as if he’d just been told that there was a way to make the sky and earth reverse positions.

She shook her head, making the circle glow green against her fingers. “Like I said, it’s a reversal, which up until about an hour ago, I thought you could only do on small things, not this. This could literally make a drug dealer someone’s god.”

There was a treble of fear in her voice, and Severus could understand why. This was, in fact, far out of his range of knowledge.

Lucius took a step back, Severus could feel like the man was using him a shield. “Should you be touching something so cursed with your bare hands?”

She tilted her head, looking around Severus with a smile to Lucius. “It will only respond to tattoomancy. That is why Rax is here. If something backlashes, he’s the best at undoing it. And from what I’ve heard this bloke has done, it’s worth the risk. Besides, I’ve still got six shields.”

“Six shields?” Severus asked curiously.

The woman lifted her hand, showing seven-round circles tattooed on her wrist. One was blackened and looked like a curse scar. The rest was blue against her pale skin.

“It’s what tattoomancers put on themselves to keep from having work fuck up. It keeps the magic going out instead of in. You start with four as an apprentice, you get five as a journeyman and get seven as a master. Only once, when I was learning, did something come back and trust me, it was nasty.” 

  
Severus was starting to be impressed by the woman. While she looked like she was a complete idiot, she seemed to have a relatively firm grasp on what they were dealing with and had protections that he knew nothing about. He looked to Artimis, who gave him a weak smile. They must have been thinking the same thing, as Artimis uncrossed her arms, looking less upset as she had been.

Kate wrote the second symbol on the board, following the same pattern for labeling it. She took a breath, removing her hands from the pale ginger and rubbing her eyes. He noticed that her eyes were electric purple and not a standard color. He rose his eyebrow at her, and she gave him a cheeky grin.

“It’s special, I know. I have Alexandria’s Genesis. Not the weird superhuman shit that muggle’s spout, just purple eyes, and weird melanin.” She offered, before looking back to her work.

Artimis seemed to brighten up at this, Severus could see her tilting her head, trying to look more into the woman’s eyes. 

_Of course, she would want to do research at a time like this…_ Severus thought, looking back to the matter at hand.

  
“What is the next one?” Severus asked, watching her start to move the lines again. This time, she had to start and stop, her fingers seeking smaller lines and lines apart from the previous shapes.

She started laughing as she spoke. “This is the most benign of them all. It’s a Sex Amp, well, one of them. It’s a drive booster, sometimes older men get them to help them stay the course with their lovers if you get my meaning.”

Lucius laughed too, his voice a snicker. “Oh… So Weasley has a problem?”

Severus did not want to know about this aspect of the boy at all. “Lucius, I’d really rather-”

“Probably, but it can also make you have a higher sex drive if you have a normal once. It could make it where you are kinda insatiable.” Kate cut into the conversation.

Artimis had an intent look on her face. “Hmm, does it affect virility?”

Severus looked at the symbol and had to suppress an eye roll. It was a phallus that was woven with red lines. He supposed it made it easier to recognize but weren’t tattoos meant to be a little more artistic?

“Not really, there is another amp for that. This just makes you want it all the time, or if you have slack in your drive, it makes you want it normal amount.”

Severus looked up at Potter with a dark gaze. It seemed that Harry was not amused by the knowledge either. This tattoo could explain a lot of the abuse that he put women through at Secluded Delights, but it could also explain the things that Hermione had not yet had the strength to tell him, but he could safely assume happened.

He didn’t even see that the woman had put the symbol on the board.

“Here is where we get into some of the more intricate work, and I won’t be able to highlight as well, since the other lines cover some of it. Was this dude into non-ethical BDSM by any chance?” She asked, her fingers going to work.

Potter started gagging a laugh from behind Artimis, and Severus looked up. Potter was shaking his head at him, trying to regain the composure of an official Auror.

Severus looked from the young man to the tattoomancer at his side. “It is safe to assume, since Potter was his previous best friend, that no one knew if he had such proclivity. Why is that what you ask?”

“This is a sub tat.” She offered with a chuckle.

Lucius leaned forward now, his eyebrows touching his hairline. “A what?”

She stopped and looked at them. Her smile gave away the satisfaction she was having in explaining this to them. It seemed that Kate thought they were rather prudish and that she would get to embarrass them. Severus crossed his arms, leaning back a bit so that she could more fully see Lucius.

“A sub tat, it’s for the submissive partner. It gives the Dom the ability to give orders. It’s not very nice, and the mainstream community is pretty against it. It removed the ability to withdraw consent. I don’t know how much you all know, but the common tenets of BDSM and it’s subcultures is Safe, Sane, Consensual. If you remove consent, it’s, well, depending on the act, it coercion all the way to rape.”

Severus cringed at the notion of this tattoo’s power. He realized that he had an even more profound dislike for them now than before Severus came into this room. 

“But he’s the bottom?” Lucius said with a laugh.

Her eyebrows when up, and she seemed impressed now. “Yes, bottom, that is a word you might use. Yeah, this tattoo claims him for someone else. Their initials are in it, but with the other symbols, it’s impossible to tell.”

Severus just noticed that Artimis had her quill at work on the nearby desk, taking notes. He’d want to see her notes after this because he didn’t want to miss anything.

“So someone branded him as theirs,” Artimis asked.

The words branded stopped his thoughts of seeing the notes as he thought about what this man had done to Hermione. He’d not seen the mark, but he’d heard of it, and it made him angry and now worried. What if Ronald had passed some of this accursed magic into her skin with his drunken actions.

He needed to know. “What happens if someone who is marked like this, brands someone else more traditionally. Does it have the ability to transfer power?”

Kate’s lips pursed, and she thought for a moment, her head tilted to the side as she looked at the ceiling.

“Not unless it’s done with tattoomancy, or um Rax, can pyro do that?” She asked her partner.

The man stopped cleaning a tool, shaking his head. “Nope. Fire does too much damage to the magic, and it doesn’t heal right.”

Kate turned her purple eyes on him. “Yeah, so no, why? Did he brand someone.”

“It is of no-” Severus began to argue, but Artimis held her hand up to silence him. Her olive eyes begged his patience before turning to Kate.

“I’ll have you look at an image later to give me your expertise on it. It is likely not connected, but I’m sure we would all feel safer knowing for sure.” 

Severus did agree, he’d not submit Hermione to have a stranger look at her actual skin, but a photo could have merit in helping determine if this affected her. If he’d managed to get some of this submissive nature into her skin, then it would explain a lot about why she never fought back. Severus had wondered, quietly to himself, why the woman who could stare down dragons, could not take on this man lying in front of him. 

It was then that Severus remembered that it was Weasley lying on a table prone and defenseless before him. Up until now, it had been something to be looked at and examined. But thinking about Hermione and how she’d been so tortured by this man, he had to reign in some of his darker thoughts. It would be too easy, even with the people around him, to kill Weasley and end it.

But then he thought of how terrified she was when he left today. How she begged him to be careful and that she’d be lost without him if anything happened to him. It calmed the homicidal thoughts, at least, for now.

“Okay, that is number 5, our sub tat, number 6, is one of my most hated types of tats,” Kate said, disgust apparent in her voice. Severus wondered, with all they’d been told so far, why this was what made the woman sound so offended. 

She pressed her fingers hard into the skin, a bright yellow box coming up around the lines, glowing like liquid gold.

“It’s a ‘ _soul-mate tattoo_.’ Before you think that we can just make people know their soul mates, it doesn't work that way. This is a tattoo that lovers get. It’s the stupidest thing ever, and I actually at my shop refuse to do them. They come as a pair, and when you touch your tattoo, the other is supposed to feel it.” Kate explained, her fingers tracing around the square, it seemed to fill up and cover the other lines.

“So, someone can feel you are touching his tattoo right now,” Lucius asked, a touch of concern in his still amused voice.

“Oh, definitely. And they are going to feel it a lot more before we are done tonight.” Kate said, lifting her hand up.

She delivered three sound hits to the tattoo. 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“They felt those slaps like I was hitting them. Now here is why it is an idiotic thing to do. These dumb bints and blokes come in love after two weeks, get a tattoo with their ‘ _soul-mate,_ ’ and then a month later, they feel someone else touching it because they aren’t together anymore. Rax makes more money removing these tats than any of his unique work.” Kate said, gesturing to the man who was now waiting patiently, it seemed for her.

“Yea, it’s boring too.” He huffed, the blue hair waving as he did.

She gave him a commiserating smile. “I know, but you get to have a challenge with this one.”

Severus watched as this giant beanpole of a man cracked his neck and then knuckles.

“I’m ready when you are.”

She nodded, her fingers moving even as she wasn’t looking. “Let me finish testing the boundaries.”

“Okay, how deep we thinking?” Rax moved the rolling table with what looked like torture implements toward the table where Weasley was soundly unconscious.

“Top of the dermis. All the epidermis.” Kate offered, looking back at the tattoo. The blue ball of light was sitting there still as she seemed to manipulate the lines' color.

Rax came up next to Artimis, who sidestepped to give him room. “Pretty deep.”

“Yeah, but not the deepest, but it is pretty large.” She traced around the edges.

Rax picked up a tool that looked like an ice shaver, with a wide sharp blade. “I brought the big boys.”

“Of course you did.” There was a smile between them.

  
It seemed that Lucius needed some clarification on what was about to happen. “Care to explain?”

She drew back, shaking her wrists and grinning like a she-wolf.

“Oh yeah, Rax is going to take it off, and then I will separate the actual ink layers. Then, we lay them out and see what we’ve got. If they are a proud bastard, they would have put their mark into something like this, it’s not what you don’t wanna lay claim to. Like I said, it’s someone's magnum opus.” 

The woman looked like she was about to explode with how happy she looked at the prospect of having several layers of Weasley’s skin out before her. Severus thought she might actually be envious of the work done here. 

“How do you- uh, remove it?” Lucius asked, taking a step back.

Her voice was lilted with joy. “We cut it off. It’s more than that, but that’s Rax’s job.”

The tall man came to her side, and he put his hand out as if he were ushering them backward. “Just stay back, and you won’t get no blood on you.”

  
“Yeah, Everyone give him about five feet of space,” Kate said, and Severus shifted from where he was standing. He moved now toward Weasley’s feet, standing so he could watch what was being done. It was not with the same giddy joy that the woman had as she took her place opposite him. They looked like some macabre nurse and doctor out of a horror film with how pleased they seemed. 

No Severus was looking at with the same gaze that Healer Shade had opposite him. It was critical and concern. He looked at Rax’s hands and noticed that they were as still as the grave. There was a sureness to his movements, and there was not even minute wobbling that most people could not avoid. This man would have been amazing at ingredient prep.

“Whoever is the Dom is going to be in a lot of pain, if you are watching someone for who did this, they are going to not be able to hide it,” Kate said to the room before focusing on helping her companion.

It was not a pretty sight to behold. Severus watched as the skin was cut into with surgical precision around the tattoo. No one in the room was even making noise, everyone had become focused on this task. 

Both Kate and Rax moved together without talking, they seemed eased into this position. She would hand him a tool and clean them with deft fingers as he worked. Without his request, she was wiping away the blood that came from the wounds. Severus figured that to them, this was just another day at work.

“Wait.” The gravelly voice said, and Kate stilled her fingers just above the skin.

Severus lifted up on his toes, craning his neck to try to see what they were seeing.

“Is it?” Kate asked, her pierced lips looking stern at the wound.

Rax narrowed his eyes, bending for a closer look before he answered her. “Another layer Kate, and, that’s not good.”

She leaned in now, her cotton candy hair covering her face. “No, it’s not. Take the top one, I’ll look into after we get them off.”

He nodded, his fingers going back to the slow motion of peeling back the skin. “Okay, but it’s going to be messy.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do.” She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she tossed her hair back

  
It took them nearly an hour to remove the part of Weasley’s skin. Lucius had made himself comfortable on the far end of the room, looking at everything else but what was going on. Shamus had come up to stand next to Severus, silent as he too observed the work being done. 

Artimis was still taking notes, seemingly fascinated by what was happening.

The two Aurors, Potter and Mclaggen, seemed to shoot daggers at each other rather than look at the man they were meant to protect. Severus would have to ask later what had made Potter so angry at the man. Of course, it wasn’t his business, but there was a particular bit of hostility to it that made him wonder.

  
“Okay, you separate these layers, I’ll look that this under one. Who the fuck tattoos into the dermis this deep? You mess up, you can do nerve damage.” Kate said, washing her hands at a nearby sink. 

Rax came to wash his own hands, having to stoop to reach the sink. “Dunno, Kate.”

“Can you remove it?” She asked, coming back to the side that Rax had been standing. Severus noted a gaping hole in the man’s skin, but they’d put something on it to staunch the bleeding. It was a clear cream, and he thought it looked like a blood-clotting agent.

“After you tell me what it does,” Raz said, taking the part they’d removed over to his clean metal table.

  
She flicked the blue light back into existence. Severus came up to her side now. He was not worried about getting blood on his clothing while finding out what had been hidden under the skin.

It was an octagon with crisscrossed lines making segments. Each segment had a rune, and around it was worded in Latin in a Gothic script.

**Tenebris.**   
**Psychia.**   
**Bestia.**   
**Deculpia.**   
**Festum.**

Severus looked some more as the woman’s fingers began to touch the lines. Instead of the blues and reds and yellows from before, this seemed to glow violet. Severus watched her work, seeing that were was a concentration in her eyes as her metal adorned brow moved and gestured with her thoughts.

“This is not good.” She breathed, and then Severus watched as her body seemed to lock into place, but her eyes were still racing over what she was looking at. Severus was standing close enough that he could see all the muscles in her neck were tight now, and her arms were trembling.

“Kate?” Rax immediately moved to her side. 

He flicked his wand over her hands, and she fell backward to the floor on to her bottom. 

“FUCK!” She screamed loudly, making everyone jerk there heads to look at her.

  
On reflex, Severus leaned to help her stand, but a large hand pressed into his chest, moving him back from her. “Back you. Kate?!”

Rax reached for her, and she took his hands, letting him lift her to her feet. She looked paler than before, she had a bit of a grey quality to her skin.

“It’s fucking alive.” Severus heard her whisper to him lowly.

Rax did not have the sort of cadence to his voice that lent to whispering. “Kate? What is it.”

“Rax, it’s a fucking seal.” The black-clad woman cursed, rubbing her forehead.

“Kate, your wrist,” Rax said, and she looked at it.

Severus could see there was another curse burn in the circles. Whatever was in this tattoo, had managed to go back against one of her shields. Severus was glad that he was not the one messing with it.

“Aw fuck, okay. We have to remove it. I can’t leave that there, Circe, fuck who would do that.” Her cursing continued as she flicked the blue light back into existence. Severus hadn’t noticed that it’d gone out when she fell. Rax set a second light, but, this one yellow.

“Kate, you’re bleeding.” Shamus offered, pointing to the young woman's hand. 

There was a thin line along the outside of her palm, it was trickling slowly down her hand.

“Yeah, I know, let’s just do this and I will take care of it then.” The woman said. It was evident that she was both angry and frustrated. 

Then again, being a master and having something backfire unexpectedly could do that to a person.

Artimis walked up, flicking her wand over the wound. “Allow me.”

“Alright.” Kate stood still while Artimis healed the simple cut.

  
“Any idea what they sealed,” Rax asked, looking over at the wound now. It still wasn’t bleeding that much, and Severus wondered if that was normal.

She was back into her position, her hands over the tattoo, but not yet touching it. “I don’t think it’s a good fairy.”

“Stay still,” Rax said, waving his wand over her hands several times. A bright blue glowed around her hands and then faded into her skin.

She nodded at him, and tentatively went back to work.

“Can anyone read Latin?” Kate asked with aggravation.

Severus, who had returned to the place at her side, nodded. “I can?”

“What are those words?” She asked, her fingers pointing at what was outside the octagon.

**Tenebris. Psychia. Bestia. Deculpia. Festum.**

“ _Darkness. Mind. Beast. Cage. Feast_.” Severus offered, reading the words to her as he looked at her fingers, going over each word. “What did you mean a seal?”

“Someone sealed something into this tattoo. It’s not happy about it. And it’s illegal as hell.” Kate offered, the lines no longer light up at her touch.

Rax sighed at her. “Kate, that is not the kind of tat to play with.”

“In a minute, I have to know what it is. You want to let a dragon loose in this room?” She fixed him with a stare, which meant she was not happy. 

Severus was glad to not be on the other end of it.

Rax said, unabashed. “Not particularly.”

After a few minutes, she stepped back and ushered Rax to come over. “You have to take it off to I can look more into it.”

He gave her arm a squeeze. “Are you okay to do this.” 

Kate nodded, rubbing her head. “Yeah, but I need a drink and a nap after this.”

“Deal.” Rax agreed.

Severus watched as they worked again. It did not take as much time, but he figured that had to be since they were not taking it off layer by layer, but instead as one piece. It was a tense time, even though it was short. 

Rax, the great giant of a man, put it off to the side and then took it over with the others.

  
“Healer Shade, can you heal the skin back, it should go normal now, no issues. Rax got all the way out to the border.” Kate asked, rewashing her hands.

“Of course.”

  
Severus was more interested in what they were going to find, rather than Weasley’s healing. He moved over, looking at the layout they had of skin samples. The symbols were as she had highlighted, but now, it was easy to see the name signed on the final square. It was the one labeled 6, and he looked at the board, seeing the word Soul-mate.

  
He’d seen the signature a million times. Maria Anadora’s handwriting was unmistakable.

A Patronus of a giraffe showed up at that moment before he got a chance to say anything.

“Healer Shade, one of your patients, is in duress. You are needed in the maternity ward immediately.” The male voice boomed, shaking Severus from his thoughts.

Artimis looked to him and then took off, shouting at Shamus to make sure no one destroyed her lab.

  
The rest of the evening was not nearly as eventful. The two tattoomancers has sealed the skin layers up and given it to Shamus so that his department could investigate what had been sealed in Weasley’s tattoo. The two Aurors seemed able to put aside their argument to escort Weasley back to Azkaban. Harry had won out, saying they would not give him the antidote until he was in his cell, much to the chagrin of Mclaggen, who did not seem to want to have to watch an unconscious man. Severus wondered if he was eager for Weasley to try to escape so that he could use force on him. 

He pressed it from his mind as Lucius beckoned that they leave for the evening. Severus had no other reason to stay, Artimis had yet to return, and the tattoomancers were nearly done cleaning up their tools.

“Excuse, before you go, can I ask you something?” Kate asked from behind, leaving Rax’s side to come to walk up to them.

Severus stopped, nodding his head.

  
The woman looked at his left arm and then his eyes. It was odd, but he waited for her to speak.

“Do you still have your dark marks? Or did they fade when it all happened, when he died?” 

Her look made sense to him now, she was curious about their magical tattoos.

“Ah-” Lucius began. 

Severus held up his hand. “Why?”

He’d not give the information to some potential neo-death eater sycophant. She’d have to give him a good reason before he answered her.

She held out her hands in front of her, palms up in a shrug. “I’ve never heard of someone coming to get one removed, I wanted to know if they had expired with the creator.”

“They still exist.” Severus offered, pleased with her answer. 

She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Why have you never gotten it removed?”

“I wasn’t aware it was an option,” Lucius exclaimed.

Severus looked at his wool clad arm and shook his head. “It is a reminder of what I must make sure never happens again.”

She was quiet for a moment and then nodded, her hand going into her pocket. “If you ever decide that you do want them gone, there are ways. I thought I would offer it. Here is my card.”

It was a shiny black card with the rainbow font that said _‘XOXODASHKATE - Tattoos for Witches, Wizards, and Muggle Mates.’_ There was an address for a wizard village south of London on the back. Severus took it and tucked it into his pocket.

  
“Good evening.” He offered with a nod.

She waved, returning back to her companion. “Bye, boys.”

Lucius looked scandalized at being called a boy by the woman, but Severus sighed, turning from the room.

  
At the floo, he grabbed his own powder, giving his companion a tired expression.

He was weary, he’d been teaching all day, and it was well into the night now. He just wanted to crawl into bed and get some rest.

“I am going right to Hogwarts Lucius, give Narcissa my best.”

Lucius grinned. “And you give Miss Granger mine.”

“Goodnight.” He growled, stepping into the floo and sending himself to Hogwarts.

Severus went to his rooms first, showering and changing into sleep clothes before taking himself to her chambers.

He was surprised that it was dark when he got there. Hermione did not like sleeping in the dark, she liked some candlelight or the fire. Perhaps she’d forgotten and passed out. 

Flicking his wand, he lit the fire, walking into the bedroom.

Crookshanks began meowing loudly from the living area. He turned his head, the cat did not often meow, it was in part he believed Kneazles did not often make such a sound. Perhaps there was a mouse.

Severus yawned, looking at the bed and seeing no silhouette or bump to show that Hermione was there at all.

“Hermione?” He called quietly, wondering if maybe she was in the bathroom. He knocked on the door, and it opened. She wasn’t in there either.

Crookshanks was getting louder.

“Hermione?” Severus called, now looking to see if he’d missed her sleeping a chair waiting for him. No there either. 

He decided to find out what had the cat so upset, so he rounded to where it was, behind her desk. He flicked his wand, illuminating the room.

  
His chest collapsed in on itself. 

“Hermione!”

Hermione was face down on the floor, her journal in her hand, and everything else a mess under her. The Kneazle was pushing its head against Hermione’s head, crying at her. When Crookshanks looked at him, he screamed a wail that was clearing him trying to get Severus to do something.

  
Severus dropped to his knees, checking her over.

There was a pulse, and she was breathing.

He pulled her up to his lap, and she groaned at him in pain.

Her eyes flickered open.

Pulling her into his lap, he felt sticky wetness on her back. 

“Severus?” She whispered, looking up for a moment, her head barely able to stay up.

“What happened?” He asked, holding her to him.

She shook her head slightly, closing her eyes. “Everything hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Everything.”

Severus moved his hand to brush her hair away. He left a trail of blood on her forehead and then looked at his hand in almost horror.

He touched her back again, and this time looked at his fingers. The back of Hermione’s shirt was covered in blood.

Her blood.


	42. The Price of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> I wanted to make sure that I credited CorvusDraconis for the excellent help with the curse in this chapter. You can read their fab work Here.   
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis

Hermione held on to the edges of his frock coat. Severus stood in front of the fireplace, ready to go. 

“Please be safe.”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I will, I promise you, Hermione. I must go, or Lucius will think I’ve abandoned him.”

She was displeased that he was still going, but they had talked, and she understood why he had to do it. She didn’t have to like it, but she had to accept it. 

“Let me know as soon as you get back, I don’t care if I am asleep.” She offered, knowing full well that she would not be sleeping until she knew he was back in the castle. 

Severus put his hands on hers, separating her fingers from the black wool as he took a step back. “I will. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Severus.”

And then, he was gone.

Her stomach twisted with anxiety.

She needed to do something to occupy herself, or she would work herself up.

It wasn’t that she didn’t think Severus was a grown wizard who was fully capable of protecting himself. It was that Hermione was afraid of what could happen if the odds overwhelmed him.

Hermione had been in a courtroom with dementors, with vile Umbridge’s cat Patronus barely keeping them at bay.

She remembered the feeling of watching the dementors sucking the life out of Sirius and Harry from across the lake.

It truly worried her for him.

  
She shook her head. She was doing precisely what he had asked her not to do. Before he left, Severus had suggested that she read his book that he’d left at the bedside. It wasn’t the book he’d been reading to her at night. That one, he wasn’t leaving around for her to peruse. 

Hermione walked into the bedroom, looking at his side of the bed. The thought made her smile, even with the anxiety. He had become a part of her space. He had his chair, his side of the bed, his pillow. Hermione had never thought she’d be happy about sharing a bed again.

But with Severus, it was different. Different than sleeping next to Ron. She never woke with Severus’s hands roaming over her skin or pressure to do as Ron called it ‘ _her wifely duties_.’ Instead, she would find herself wrapped in Severus’s arms, drawn to his chest, and as strange as it was, she felt safe. Even the times that she woke up feeling him pressed into her back with obvious arousal, she wasn’t afraid of him. Hermione would close her eyes and pretend to be asleep, moving from him purely out of reflex. 

He would seem to wake to her shifting away from him, and then hastily exit the bed. Hermione would roll into space he had just vacated, enjoying the warmth that she missed from his presence until he returned. He would be freshly showered, his hair still damp as he would draw her to him with unsaid apologies. While someone else might have taken these actions to think that he was uninterested in her, Hermione took it as something else entirely. 

He respected her. 

Hermione wasn’t sure how to handle that, as it was not something she was used to. At least not in this way. Yes, she was respected for her mind, sometimes, and for what she’d done during the war. But she felt respected differently by him. It was impossible for her to even explain to herself, but it was something she could handle.

  
Hermione looked at the book, and she began laughing loudly. Her face instantly lit up with a smile as she picked up the small paperback.

_‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*Ck’_

While she had expected that he would give her something to read with some intellectual meat, this was not expected. She flipped it over, looking at the blurb on the back, and it confirmed her thoughts.

_“The idea of this book is that caring about everything is more dangerous than caring about nothing. The trouble with most self-help books is they focus too much on the things you don’t have as the basis for goal setting. What should really matter is your core values, and achieving the things that actually mean something to you — not focusing on society’s ideas of what wealth, success and happiness look like”_

Severus had given her a self-help book.

“Oh, Merlin, he must _really_ think I am mental.” She mused, taking the book with her into the living area. 

It didn’t mean that she wasn’t interested. After all, this book looked like it had been read a few times; it wasn’t damaged, but it had spine wrinkles and showed having been opened.

Maybe this was Severus’s secret all along.

She flipped to the inside and noticed that it had been published recently. 

That trashed her theory that he’d been using it for a long time. 

Shrugging, she began to read it with increasing interest. She lost track of time as she got up, went to her desk, took notes, and followed along as it offered alternatives to traditional goal setting. Hermione found she liked this way of looking. It made sense to her.

  
All of a sudden, she felt like someone had punched her in the back. It was a real pain that took the wind out of her. It was followed by the feeling like someone was dragging a knife over her skin.

She grasped the desk, blinking as she breathed against the pain.

It reminded her of how it felt when Bellatrix was carving into her arm, but it felt so much deeper. Hermione tried to stand, to move to see if there was someone behind her.

She couldn’t even do that as the pain began to shoot across her spine and extremities.

It was like a cruciatius, and Hermione could do nothing. She didn’t even see her attacker.

She knocked down ink and papers as she scrambled for some kind of control.

  


A surge of magic pushed out from her, every light in the room extinguishing.

  
Hermione fell to the floor, completely immobilized by the pain. It felt like someone was tearing out her skin like she was being flayed alive. 

After an hour, the pain abated, but she could not move or get up from the spot on the floor. Everything hurt; she was weak like her magic had been siphoned from her. She pressed her face to the cold stone when suddenly, she felt like she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. 

Crookshanks was standing next to her, rubbing his head against hers as he'd been since she fell.

After a moment, the half-kneazel arched his back and hissed. His fur standing on end. Hermione could feel it against her face.

The room was pitch black; not even starlight from the windows seemed to penetrate it.

Something was in there with her.

Looking into the darkness, she saw that it was looking back at her. Two violet eyes of light slanted downward held her gaze. Hermione could feel the maliciousness coming off the presence in waves.

The air hummed with magic that formed into words vibrating in her skull. 

_**A bargain was made** _  
_**In exchange for power** _  
_**Blood was spilt** _  
_**At the witching hour.** _

_**They stole from one** _  
_**And broke another** _  
_**To give themselves** _  
_**Access to our power.** _

_**My cage was removed.** _  
_**My feast unfinished.** _  
_**I must find an anchor,** _  
_**Lest I diminish.** _

_**The bargain was sealed.** _  
_**My compliance compelled.** _  
_**An anchor must be found,** _  
_**And the bargain upheld.** _

_**The anchor is imperative,** _  
_**The blood already spilling—** _  
_**I will anchor within you,** _  
_**The utmost in unwilling.** _

Terror filled Hermione as she felt the room's pressure change like something was pushing her down into the stone floor.

It squeezed her and took all the air she had to scream for help.

Her back began to burn with pain, and she cried out. Every inch of her burned like a lump of hot coal was being wrapped around her being. 

She couldn’t scream.

She sank into darkness.

* * *

  
Agony.

Pure and unwavering.

Like fire in her blood.

Like nails in her skin.

She felt like she’d been shredded and then loosely put back together with all her nerves exposed. 

Someone was moving her, lifting her from the cold floor that seemed to be her only respite. She groaned with the movement.

Forcing her eyes open, she caught sight of black. Not darkness, though.

Just black fabric.

“Severus?” She mumbled, lifting her head to look at him. She could barely make out his face; the light hurt her eyes.

His voice was so loud next to her. “What happened?”

“Everything hurts.” She shut out the light, shaking her head against everything that was too intense.

His voice banged around in her head. “What hurts?”

“Everything.” She gasped out.

His touch on her forehead, skin to skin, gave her some relief, and she pressed into his fingers.

Her head lulled against him; everything was too much. Even his breathing sounded too loud to her ears.

He jostled her, making bright streaks of pain rush over her limbs.

She tucked her face into his chest, trying to hide from the light and the sound.

He could hear his voice rumbling from his chest, she thought she heard Medusa, but it was too hard to focus.

Severus picked her up, she could feel it, but the movement was excruciating. She cried out, her hands knotting into the fabric of his clothing.

  
_Merlin, it feels like I am being burned alive from the inside..._

  
She felt more magic, more pressure, Severus’s fingers against her bare skin. 

It both soothed and burned, and she wailed, stuck between wanting him to help and wanting him to stop touching her.

“I’m here. You are bleeding, what the hell did he do to you?” Severus’s voice was close and loud, vibrating off her bones.

It was all too much, beyond too much even. 

She felt like she was sinking, her breathing labored.

Vision faded back.

* * *

  
“She’s going to start waking up from my touch, don’t let her move.”

“I will do my best.”

“Rax?”

“That’s not Pyro. That’s a shitty cover-up.”

“I can’t believe this, three in one night?”

  
There were voices that Hermione did not recognize speaking over her.

She was still burning like an inferno, but the pain wasn’t as bad.

She was on her stomach on something cold, and it was a healing contrast to the searing heat. 

Someone was touching her back, and she tried to move away, but firm hands pushed her down.

Hermione bent her knees, trying to get up and out, but she was still restrained by someone much more substantial than she was. 

She opened her eyes, panicked to see Severus’s face level with hers.

He looked pale, and his eyes were wide.

“Severus?” She breathed, her hand reaching for his face.

He took it and placed it back where it was at her side.

Severus put his hand on her cheek. “I’m right here, you have to lie still, don’t fight. I swear you are safe.”

“Should we sedate her?”

“No time, really. I don’t want to see what happens, the longer we leave it.”

  
More voices, some familiar, some not, filled the silence.

Hermione's head was foggy, and it felt like something was pressing against the inside of her skull. 

Hermione focused on Severus. His black eyes looked almost afraid.

“It hurts. Everything hurts, it feels like I’m on fire.” Hermione gasped at him, feeling cold tears on her cheeks.

He shushed her, rubbing the tears away. “I know. I’m right here. Lie still.”

  
Hermione felt pain wrack over her nerves, and she closed her eyes, wincing as she was still held in place.

  
“I’m giving her something, this is inhumane.” A familiar woman’s voice broke the silence. 

Another woman, someone she didn’t know, argued behind her. “Look, give her something then, but it can’t have any blood replenishment in it.”

“But she is bleeding a lot.” Was that Healer Shade’s voice?

“And that is why she can’t have anything yet. You start the healing process too soon, and we can’t do a damn thing. It will heal in place, and I’ll have to cut her all over again.”

It was Healer Shade’s voice. “Fine. Here, Severus, get her to take this.”

Hermione watched as a hand came into view and handed him a light blue vial. He looked up, away from Hermione for a moment. 

She felt a tap at her chin, and she smiled at him, it hurt to smile, but she couldn’t stop it from happening.

“Tilt your head this way.” Severus offered, moving her head so that he could put the potion to her lips.

  
It was as if he had poured ice into her.

The shock of it made her gasp, but she could feel the fire boiling and steaming.

Some relief filled her; she could feel her fingers again.

Hermione hummed at him. “Cool.”

“Yes, it is.” He said, his fingers once again on her face, pushing away the tears leaking from her eyes.

  
Hermione felt as if someone had stabbed, and she arched against it only to be held down again. She cried out, biting her lip as she squeezed her eyes closed.

“Try this; then, it will stop the surface pain.”

Something wet and warm pressed into her back now, and it didn’t hurt anymore.

All the pain seemed to slip back behind a white noise wall, like a foggy night obscuring everything from her senses.

“Severus.” Her lips barely warbled the sound.

He brought his face close to hers, voice low. “Yes.”

Her cheek rose in a half-smile, she could feel it, and she strained to put her head against his.

“I _love_ you.” She blurted.

He sighed, pressing his lips to her brow before drawing away. “I know. Please stay still and let them help you.”

Another pain ran over her spine through the fog, making her head twist in complaint.

“Am I _dying_?” Hermione asked him.

It made sense to her. She was obviously in a hospital, that’s why it was so cold, and she was in pain. Severus looked frightened. All of that added up to her death.

_Why else would everything feel this intense?..._

He shook his head at her. “No, you are not.”

Hermione frowned at him, trying to decide if he was lying to her or not.

They did that in muggle films, she’d seen it, where someone who loves someone tells them that they aren’t dying when they are, to have a last few happy moments.

“I really _feel_ like it. Is this what it felt like when you were dying?” Hermione asked, her hand coming to hold his wrist.

Severus put his finger to her lips gently. “Hermione, _don’t,_ relax.”

  
There was such grief in his eyes, Hermione could see it. It was like looking at a reflection of feeling she understood.

Her heart broke at seeing him like this.

It was her fault he seemed so sad, and she wasn’t even sure what had happened to get her here. 

All she remembered was a voice in the darkness, some words that she couldn’t remember but still felt.

  
“I wonder if you were this sad, looking at me, begging you to hold on?” Hermione asked, touching his cheek.

Severus made a look like she had struck him.

Hermione saw a hand touching his shoulder, she looked up. It was Healer Shade, looking at Severus with pity in her eyes.

“Severus, it’s the potion, it’s the wizard equivalent of an epidural. She’s not delirious, she has no filter.”

Severus looked up at the woman, who Hermione recognized, giving her a nod. 

Hermione realized that he was on his knees so that his head could be next to her. He looked away from her for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

She yawned as the fuzzy feeling had her feeling like she was sleepy all of a sudden.

“I was. Not for the same reasons, I had no love for you then. But no one should have had to see me like that.” Severus breathed, rubbing the side of her face.

Hermione shook her head at him then. “I didn’t love you then either. I just wanted to do what was right.”

“Hermione.” Severus sighed. “Perhaps this is not the time for these professions of love and ruminations of the past.”

Hermione grabbed his shoulder weakly, shaking him. “If I am dying, it is the _only_ time.”

“You are not dying.” He said firmly.

She wasn’t sure she believed him. 

From what she could imagine and understand, it felt like it.

She couldn’t feel her body, it felt like she was floating, and before this, she felt like her body was exploding. 

Sounded like dying to her. “Sure feels like it.”

  
The voices at her back began to speak again. 

“It’s the same damn thing. Holy fuck.”

“Kate?” A deep male voice answered.

“It didn’t get me, I was ready. It’s another stupid seal, but this one, it is sloppy. Like someone was shaking when they did it. But it feels like whatever it is holding doesn’t want me to remove it.”

  
Hermione tried to lift her head to look and see what they were talking about. “What is it? What are they doing to me?”

“Don’t worry about it, you will be fine. Can you remove it?” Severus said, turning her face back to him with gentle guidance from his hands.

The foreign female voice answered him back. “Yeah, but she’s gonna hurt later. This was not done by an expert. It’s like someone copycatted the first.”

“Do what you must,” Severus answered, his gaze returning to Hermione. 

She tried to smile, but it felt like her lips were not responding.

Hermione felt a lot of pressure on her spine, and sometimes pinpricks of pain would usher through her.

She had no concept of time.

Everything seemed to be either too slow or too fast, so she focused on the only thing not moving or changing around her. 

“Severus,” Hermione called to him.

He said her name in question. “Hermione?”

Hermione grabbed his hand, pulling it under her chin.

She kissed his knuckles and placed her cheek on his hand, closing her eyes. “Mine.”

“Yours.” It was barely a whisper, but she heard it.

  
Something in her snapped taut as the words wove their way through her.

It was as if someone had turned on the light in a dark room.

Her chest felt lighter, and she could breathe easier.

Hermione took a deep breath and then could no longer hold her eyes open.

It was not the darkness that she fell into, instead, luminous sleep.

* * *

  
When she woke, Hermione was still on her stomach, but it was comfortable and not cold. But she didn’t feel hot inside anymore.

Hermione went to move but found that she could not roll over; there was some kind of pillow holding her in place.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Severus said, and Hermione could feel him urging her back to her stomach with his hands.

She lifted her head and looked up, seeing him retreat from her side.

Hermione was in Severus’s rooms on the couch, which had been transfigured into a U shaped bed.

“What happened?” Her head still felt heavy, so she laid it down, turning to look at him. Severus was in sleeping clothes, tucked into a chair a blanket over his lap.

He looked at the fire and then at her. “You nearly died. Someone cast some potent curses on you, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Anadora.”

“What?” Hermione asked, pulling herself up more to look at him. She had to close her eyes to not scream as her back unleashed hell in a complaint.

Severus stood, moving to her side. He tucked his hands under her hips and carried her back into the cradle of the cushions. “You were cursed, and you are doing more damage to a healing curse wound by moving.”

Hermione did not remember being cursed or even a fight. She didn’t remember anything to do with Ron or Maria.

Furrowing her brow, she watched Severus with confusion.

“Who cursed me? How did Ron get out?” Hermione knew her voice was shaky, her throat was tight with concern.

Severus sat back down, pulling the blanket over his legs once more. Hermione watched him look into the fire.

The golden glow cast his face in a strange light, and his expression was hard to read. His jaw seemed to tighten, and he looked upset.

“There is much to tell you, and many of those things will be _unpleasant_.” His voice was low and somber.

Hermione did not like how grim his expression was.

She tucked her arm under her head to support her and waited for him to start talking again.

  
The fire crackled and spit, sending golden orange light over him. His face was stoic, and she wondered what he was thinking.

Whatever it was, it had to be bad because he had yet to look at her.

“Do you feel you are in a state to take such news?” Severus finally asked, rubbing his face. His hand stopped on his nose as he pinched it, his eyes closed.

Hermione breathed deeply, exhaling to settle the tingle in her stomach. “I think so.”

He opened his eyes, his right eyebrow raising a touch.

“That is _not_ reassuring.” He rumbled, shaking his head.

Hermione twisted, ignoring the jolt of pain so that it was easier to look at him. “How bad is it? Did someone die?”

He pursed his lips, black eyes looking distant for a moment. 

“In a manner of speaking, _yes_.” Severus offered heavily.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand in a gasp. “Oh, oh, no? What happened?”

  
Severus lifted his hand, pointing at her. “You must promise to stay still. I will not have you injuring yourself more.”

It was not a request; it was ordered.

Severus was not going to tell her anything until she said to him that she’d stay still and not hurt herself any more than she was at the moment.

“I promise. Who died?” She nodded, making it a point to settle further into the shape of the couch.

  
Severus looked away again, swallowing something back. Hermione thought it looked like regret. “While I know you have no love for the woman, due to the curse and a lack of _foresight_ , Ms. Anadora lost her child this evening.”

The air was ripped out of her lungs as Hermione felt pain in her gut. 

“What?” She barely gasped in shock.

Hermione had never wished ill on the woman’s child.

Yes, she’d done terrible things to her, and yes, she’d made her life hell, but Hermione would never wish the pain she suffered on someone else, even the person who orchestrated it.

Severus spoke again, his voice barely heard over the fire. “Unfortunately, it seems that Mr. Weasley’s cursed tattoo had a mate on her.”

“But how?” She demanded.

 _How had a cursed tattoo killed her child? Had it been a backlash, or did the curse affect the wrong person…_ Hermione’s mind was racing with questions now.

It mingled with the grief that she felt for the woman.

“We are still looking into it.” Was all that Severus offered her. He still wasn’t looking at her, and she wondered if he felt some guilt over the matter.

  
Even if he didn’t, Hermione felt pain enough for both of them. She closed her eyes, her face pressing into the cushions. She could feel tears starting to creep into the edge of her vision.

She was crying for someone who’d wanted her dead. It was madness, but Hermione could not help but feel immense pain in the commiseration of that loss. 

She wept. “I- that’s _horrible_.”

“I thought you would feel that way.” Severus sighed at her side. 

  
Hermione lay there, crying for a few moments before a thought occurred to her.

Severus had said she’d been cursed too, but Hermione had no tattoos. The closest thing she had was ‘ _mudblood_ ’ on her arm and what Ron had done to her.

She lifted her head again, seeing that he was watching her.

“You said it affected me too, I don’t have any tattoos. At least, not that I know of, and that’s not something you forget. Right?” She didn’t know why she was hesitant, but something in the way he looked at her told her that there was so much more to be said.

Perhaps the death of the child was not the most unpleasant part.

“I would, under normal circumstances, agree. However, after tonight, I disagree. You were branded by Mr. Weasley, but what do you remember about when it happened?” Severus asked, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

Hermione didn’t want to think about it, but she remembered the smell and the pain. And not being able to getaway. How he told her that no one would want her ever again. How she felt her flesh being seared.

She shook her head. “Ah- I- How much it hurt. It- How I couldn’t move. Why?”

Long fingers folded as Severus placed his mouth to his hand, leaning against them. Hermione watched as his gaze flicked over her and then back to her face.

He was angry; she could see in the narrow of his eyes and how his shoulders were squared out.

His voice belied the emotion too. “Because on that night, I believe that someone tattooed you without your consent, and then Mr. Weasley covered it up.”

“What- why would he do that?” Hermione asked in shock, trying to crane her neck to look at her back.

It only caused her pain, and Severus leaned forward, placing a hand softly on her shoulder.

Hermione looked at him, and he frowned, shaking his head. “You are asking me to look into a mind that I _cannot_. I can only tell you what I know.”

“What happened tonight?” Hermione asked, taking his hand with hers.

Another frown, and Severus looked away. He seemed troubled, his lips pressed thin as he thought. She could see the gears turning his mind, how he stared into the fire with reservation.

Severus let out a great sigh, letting his head hang forward and his hair conceal him. “Someone bound something very nasty into a series of tattoos. We still don’t know what it is. But it nearly killed you.”

“How do you bind things into tattoos, that like muggle myth 'The Craft' kind of nonsense.”

She couldn’t believe that someone had trapped a being in a tattoo; that was the sort of thing that someone would come up to explain a type of magic if they were a muggle or confused.

But it was Severus telling her this, and that made her nervous.

“There is an art that is capable of it. I learned a great deal about it tonight.”

“And that would be,” Hermione questioned, tilting her head to the side.

Still looking at the floor, he bounced his head for a moment, as if he were having an argument with himself. “Tattoomancy, which is what saved your life.”

“How?”

  
Severus peered at her through his curtain of hair.

Leaning back so that it no longer obscured his face, he frowned. Rubbing his shoulder, he groaned and then settled back in the chair. “Since I have yet to sleep, I will summarize and explain more when I am more equipped to elaborate. They cut the accursed thing out of your skin. It has to heal, and because it was quite deep and the skin was damaged from the handiwork of whoever put this in you, it will take a day or so. It also removed the tracker spell that Mr. Weasley had on you. It was not a brand that he tracked you with, it was this tattoo.”

Hermione had known that he had a tracker since Severus had told her after Hogsmeade.

It had been a point of worry for her in the back of her mind.

But to know that there was a whole tattoo that she knew nothing about bothered her even more.

“Merlin, how did I not _notice_?” Hermione struggled for an answer to this.

Severus exhaled heavily through his nose. “Either you were incapacitated, or you were drugged. When Weasley comes too, and Anadora can speak, we will find out more.”

  
Hermione watched how he couldn’t seem to be comfortable. A frown had installed itself on his lips, and he kept crossing one leg over another.

“Are you alright?” Hermione whispered, laying her head on her arm again.

Severus seemed to deflate. “Aside from coming home to find you on the floor in a pool of your own blood and watching you be equivalently tortured, I’d say I am fairing rather well. Are you alright?”

Hermione stopped and thought. Inside she was a churning abyss of confusion and pain and betrayal.

But she didn’t feel the worst she;d ever felt.

Most of her feelings were around the fact that someone else suffered so much tonight.

“Maybe... Did she- did she get to hold him?” She asked, hoping that Maria got some kind of closure. 

_Merlin, she ached for the woman…_

Severus closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he exhaled in quiet exasperation before he answered her. “I don’t know? I was more worried about you at the moment. I’m sure if you asked Healer Shade when she comes by to check you over, that she can provide you with more details.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment, a well of guilt suddenly overflowing into her mind.

 _Had I wished ill on the baby?…_ She tried to remember and looked to Severus with a rising sense of dread. “I didn’t wish that on her. I would never have wished that-”

“Hermione, even if you did, none of this would be your fault.” His face softened, and he reached for her hand.

Hermione took his hand, holding it eagerly as she tried to absolve herself of the guilt in her chest. “But I want you to know that I didn’t.”

His fingers curled around hers firmly, giving her a squeeze before letting it go. “I am aware. Get some rest?”

It was evident that he was pleading with her on his behalf as much as hers. 

  
She tried to settle again and noticed how he pulled the cover-up over his shoulders, leaning his head against the chair's wing. It did not look comfortable at all.

“Are you going to sleep in the chair?”

Severus nodded, looking at the fire again. “I was advised that holding you might aggravate your wound and that you cannot roll off your stomach for at least another 3 hours. I am not leaving you to sleep in my bed when something could happen, but I cannot sleep with you there. So yes, I am sleeping in the chair.”

Hermione frowned, whispering to him. “I’m really sorry, Severus.”

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. Whoever did this to you is who has **a lot** to be _sorry_ for.” The look in his eyes was murderous as he spoke about the prospect of someone else having been apart of all this.

Hermione was afraid for them. Because that look told her he was going to kill whoever had done this.


	43. Skin to Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Finally, she’d fallen asleep.

Severus could not, however, find the same respite. 

He leaned forward, holding his head in his hands.

For six years, he’d known peace. 

Yes, there was the occasional prophet article. 

Or the offhanded dozen deranged witches saying they were carrying his child. 

But it had been peace.

In the four months that Hermione had come back into his life, it had disappeared.

Now, instead of grading essays, or giving our detentions or reading, he was facing subterfuge and plots. 

It was always those three. 

Potter, Granger, and — _Weasley_. 

Severus could not think about the man without a burst of anger in his chest. While he’d been a nuisance then, whatever the idiot had gotten into had thrown his life back into chaos.

It wasn’t Hermione’s fault. Even though she was the one who begged his forgiveness and would continue to do so.

It had been Weasley, his enabling mother, and his deceptive mistress and whatever plot they had stumbled into.

Severus growled lowly, doing his best to not wake her. 

While he could not rest, Hermione needed to.

He knew why he couldn’t rest, and that was what angered him more than anything.

Hermione was right.

Something was coming, something was about to happen.

He would bet his life on it.

It sang in his bones like a dirge of the peaceful life he’d made for himself these six years.

The very air seemed to press down on him with the weight of this realization.

His rest was over, the peace was gone. 

Until Severus got to the very root of this problem, Hermione would never be safe, and he could not rest until she was.

Severus felt old. 

Not in mind, but his body had that bone-weary drag that protested even now. His nerves were firing against him, his shoulder in agony from damage inflicted long ago. Craving sleep, but being denied, made his joints ache. He knew it was the stress of the situation, that the more he took on himself, the more he would feel it. Curse pain had a way of tuning into duress and amplifying it. 

He huffed, leaning his face against his left hand as he rolled his shoulder. The scar from making Alexander’s garden had finally healed shut, still red, but no longer open. The castle had taken what it needed from him, it seemed. The draw on his magic has ceased the day before.

She shifted in pain, and he watched how her face scrunched and crinkled. How it caused a burning in his chest, a desire to make it all go away. Hermione let out a short grunt of pain, and he stood, moving to her side.

Her torso was wrapped from her hips to the bottom of her ribs in cloth bandages. They’d been spelled to stay dry and wick away any moisture to keep the wound clean. Severus had rolled her shirt up to the top of the wrap so that if she began bleeding again, he would see it. 

Severus put his hand on her shoulder, rubbing a gentle circle in hopes of easing the distress. There was nothing more she could be given, not yet at least. No, this was the worst time of any incident or injury. 

The _Waiting_. Waiting for it to get better or to get worse. 

She seemed to quiet under his touch, her face lifting slightly toward him, eyes unopened. He brushed his fingers through her hair, and she let head sunk back into the pillow. He lingered there, running his fingers through her mane, taking care to not catch a wayward tangle and wake her.

“You are _too_ kind for your own good.” He murmured quietly, the back of his knuckle running along the edge of her cheek. 

This woman had the capacity to feel for someone that had **literally** , not figuratively, wanted her dead. It was a compassion that he did not possess, or understood.

After a few moments of softly stroking her face and rubbing her shoulder, he withdrew, returning to the chair. Hermione was snoring deeply enough that he knew only sharp pains would wake her. His legs threatened to drop him if he had continued to stand there.

Watching her sleep, he tried to single out who would wish her this kind of harm. There was so much he didn’t know about the situation, and every time he thought he got a grasp on it, something new showed up. Severus was not fond of being behind on the details of any matter, especially matters he was so deeply invested in.

For that kind of power, the type that would bind a living being into a tattoo would have to be a source. Severus could think of few people who were that powerful at all, let alone any that Hermione had managed to cross. He was as frustrated as she had been the previous night. All the pieces seemed to be there, but with no framework, they were useless.

His head started to throb.

Severus needed to try to sleep. He’d be useless if he didn’t, and he had no desire to be caught unprepared. Tomorrow, he and Hermione would have a long talk about any potential enemies she could have made, and from there, he would know where to start looking.

Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and started counting backward from one hundred. It was still by far the best practice he’d discovered in the quest to help Hermione over her trauma.

_100- 99- 98- 97- 96- 95-_

_71- 70- 69-_

* * *

His head jerked forward at the sound of the floo opening, his eyes blinking. He hadn’t realized that he’d fallen asleep. 

Lime green robes denoted that it was Artimis. “Just me. How is she doing.”

Severus turned his head to look at Hermione. She was awake, a weak smile on her face.“I hurt, but I think I will live.” 

Artimis seemed pleased, crossing the space to the side of the couch. “I’m glad of it. I am here to check you over, make sure the skin regrowth has worked before I head into work.”

“You are still working after last night. Burning the candle at _both_ ends?” Severus asked, getting to his feet from the chair. 

Artimis looked affronted, her hand coming up to cover her heart. “Coming from you, I feel I should be insulted. When has sleep _ever_ been a priority.”

“Touche. Do you need my help?” Severus said, taking his place next to her.

Artimis ran her wand over Hermione, whispering incantations.

Once she was done, he got his answer. “Only to help me unwrap the wound.”

Severus looked to Hermione for permission now, not wanting to break the trust they had. This would require a bit more manhandling than he usually put her through. Earlier, it had been to save her life, and he would instead ask her forgiveness then, now he had a chance to ask beforehand.

“Hermione, may I?” He breathed.

Her face dropped, and a flicker of fear ran behind her eyes as she tried to at her back. “Oh, uh- do you have to- look?”

“I don’t follow,” Severus asked, unsure if she was asking Artimis to not look at it. Which made no sense, because how would she heal properly then.

Hermione turned her face from him, and blood seemed to drain from her fair. “I don’t want you to see- me?”

He hadn’t thought of that. 

The fact that she had body issues worst that he did had not occurred to him as something that would make Hermione uncomfortable now.

Nervously, he leaned down to her level. “Hermione- I already have. I had to in order to assess what had happened?”

“Oh- No. It’s horrible, I don’t want you to see how- ugly my skin is. Merlin, you must hate me now.” She seemed to gasp, covering her face with her hands and burying into the cushion.

He reached for her, brushing her hair away to see the side of her face. The fact that Artimis was there was forgotten at this moment. He could hardly breathe for how much her self-loathing surprised him but also that she thought that he, who was littered with scars of his past, would think her ugly.

“Hermione. Don’t even think that.” He breathed, his fingers moving over her ear.

Her voice was muffled and higher-pitched than usual. As if she were straining to not cry and quietly screaming instead. Severus couldn’t understand what she said at all.

“I cannot hear you.”

Hermione turned to him them, red-faced with embarrassment and hurt.“But, I’m- disfigured and damaged. I- no one should have to look at me.”

He took in a steady breath, catching her chin before she could retreat from his gaze. “Did he make you think that? Did he tell you that? Because if he did, he is an even bigger fool than I thought.”

“Severus, please don’t lie to me. I can’t take it.” Her eyes were sad. 

He could see that she genuinely believed she was ugly. 

T hat this was not some vanity grab for praise, but that she was reviled by herself.

Severus pointed stared at her. “Do I strike you as a man who would lie to you to save your feelings?”

“Yes.” She admitted. 

He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment before focusing on her. “Then I fear you’ve been misled. Hermione, you are the antithesis of ugly, regardless of what had been done to you.”

“Severus, please.” She pleaded, and those words, as they always did, gave him pause.

He looked up at Artimis, who had taken a step back and was trying to make herself unobtrusive. Perhaps this was something combated in private.

He relented sighing. “I will respect your wishes and close my eyes while I help Artimis, but we will talk about this later. I will not have you thinking that there is something wrong with you.”

Standing, he looked at Artimis, giving her a nod to proceed. “You will have to verbally guide me.”

“Severus, you are better blindfolded than some of my aides.” Artimis grinned, trying to cut the tension of the conversation that had just taken place.

Severus kept his promise. He closed his eyes and blindly unrolled the wrap as Artimis lifted and adjusted her. Once Severus felt that he’d had the last of it, he turned his back to them. He focused on folding the linen then and listening to what was being said behind him.

“It will heal cleanly, thank goodness. You will never even know there was anything there.” Artimis said.

Hermione was quiet, but he could hear that she was crying. From pain or shame, he could not tell.

“You will need to have another application of this later, and then you should be right as rain. You can get up and walk around, but I would advise against you doing anything strenuous.”

A hand on his shoulder was enough of a cue that he could turn around. Artimis’s expression was commiserating as she nodded at him. “I will be at the hospital. Send for me if something changes.”

“I am in your debt.” He inclined his head.

The woman dared to grin at him. “ _Yes_ , you are. Fortunately for you, you get to pay that off with reading my research notes and advising me.”

“How lucky I am.” His tone had all growl, but no bite. Of all the things he had even been forced to read, her work was nowhere near the worst.

Artimis grabbed some floo powder from a pouch in her pocket. “Take care of her, and don’t push yourself too hard. I’d hate for you both to be my patients.”

“Have a good day at work, Healer Shade.” Severus ushered her onward.

“You as well, Professor Snape.”

With a toss of powder and a few words, she was gone.

Severus turned now, looking at Hermione. Her face was buried in the couch still. Drawing his wand, he moved his chair closer to her, taking a seat in it and leaning forward.

“Hermione.” He whispered, his hand reaching out to hold hers. Her fingers were curled into a fist, and he wrapped his around them, giving a squeeze.

She did not answer him, but her crying seemed to quiet.

“I would like you to consider something, and you need not answer. You have taken to heart what someone who did not have your best interest said to you. I can tell you, with absolute certainty, that I have your best interests at heart. Please consider taking my words as truth. You are not ugly. Ugly is not something on the outside. Ugly is something inside. You are not ugly. Take it from someone who has been, and at times, still is, very ugly on the inside.”

She looked at him, them wide brown eyes. “You are not ugly on the inside. Or the outside.”

“I do not understand how you can look at me, knowing what I have done in my life, and say those things, and then look at yourself and not see that it is true for you too,” Severus whispered.

Her hand unballed, and she intertwined her fingers with his.

“I don’t look at myself.” She admitted, shame rippling through her words.

“At all?”

She nodded, not look at him now. “At all. I avoid mirrors. I shower with my eyes closed.”

“Why?” Severus asked her softly.

Her lips curled in, and she looked as if she didn’t want to answer him. “Have you ever hated what you see so much, you’d rather never see it again?”

“I can say, I have.”

Hermione sighed, nodding still. “Then you understand why I don’t look at myself.”

“Hermione, you- let me show you something.” He said, standing.

Severus reached down for her, and she took his hand, letting him lift her up from the couch’s transfigured U-shape. He stabilized her, making sure she soundly had her feet under her before he stepped away.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for something that could turn out either very good or very bad.

Severus took several steps back from her, and he grabbed the back of his nightshirt. Pulling it up over his head, he shrugged the shirt off, setting it to the side. Stretching his arms out to the side, he looked at her.

“What do you see.” He asked, doing his best to conceal his nerves. Severus did not like to have himself exposed, especially his neck, which was now not covered by a high collar. His body was littered with scars and curse wounds and a dark mark that reminded him that he’d, in fact, been very ugly.

“You are shirtless,” Hermione said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Severus nodded at her, his hands falling to his sides. “So, you see me?”

Hermione furrowed her brow, head tilting to the side. “Yes, am I supposed to see something else.”

“Granger, do try to not be obtuse. You see me, but not my many scars.” Severus gestured to his side, where a particularly nasty set of lines rested along his ribs.

Hermione frowned, shaking her head. “They are apart of you.”

Severus nodded at her, exhaling through his nose before he continued. “Precisely. Now, please educate me as to why you cannot look at yourself so objectively?”

She looked away now, at the floor, her eyes not meeting his. Her arms tightened across her chest. “Because- I- It’s _different_ , with me?”

“ _How so_? Explain it to me, so that I can understand.” Severus led her thinking along, trying to make a critical point.

Her lip wobbled as she stumbled for words. “I- I’m supposed to be- to be-”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know, not this. Not covered in scars before I was even 18. Not bearing curse wounds. Not _**this**_.” She huffed, stomping her foot and shaking her head. Her hands unleashed from her hold on herself, gesturing to her self angrily. 

Severus rubbed his forehead. “Hermione, you know those things don’t matter.”

He watched as she rolled her brown eyes, looking at the ceiling. Her eyes were glistening, her face obviously pinching with distress.

“But they do. Look at, for example, Romilda. Or even Ginny. They are beautiful, _whole_.” Her words trailed off in a whisper.

Severus let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “And there is the root issue.”

“What is?” She turned her eyes to him, head cocking to the side.

He gestured to her, his hand moving up and down as he spoke. “You don’t feel whole, you feel like something is missing. Like you lack something they have?”

“I suppose so.” She shrugged, her hand coming to lips, covering her mouth.

He took a tentative step forward toward her. He did not want to cause her panic, he was not sure how she would react to him only half-clad in her proximity, but he tried to impress upon her that everything she thought about her looks was wrong.

“What do you think you are missing?” Severus pried.

This seemed to break some damn in her, as she deflated, the waterline of her eyes overflowing into slight tears.

“ _Everything_.” She whimpered in defeat.

Severus took another step forward, this time standing straight and crossing his arms. “I find that unacceptable. Come up with a better answer.”

“I don’t know.” Her words were a soft growl.

Severus did not relent; he was going to make that bright mind actually work in her favor. “Hermione, what do you think that Miss Vane or Missus Potter have that you don’t? What makes them whole and not you?”

Her arms wrapped defensively back around her torso, Severus could clearly see that she was trying to shut him out. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Hermione said, turning to walk from him,

He was close enough that he could catch her arm. 

Severus stopped her with a gentle grasp so that if she genuinely wanted to walk away, she could. “You are shutting down because you can’t find an answer, and that makes you mad.”

“Why do you even car-” Her eyes widened as she stopped midword, her hand coming to cover her mouth. Severus could see the apology in her eyes.

He let her go, sighing. “Why do _I_ care? Because Hermione, you are important to me. On more occasions than I have _ever_ in my life before, I have told you the depth of my feelings for you. I do not openly express such emotions _frivolously_. You are perhaps the most important person in the world to me. And to see you hate yourself makes me angry. Because I would not allow someone else to even _**think**_ the things about you that you are saying.”

She tried to apologize. “Severus. I am-”

He stopped her by taking her hands in his, imploring her with a look. “A moment, let me finish. I understand that you have been conditioned to think that you are not worthy, not important, or even that you are not beautiful. And I am going to tell you that those are lies a weaker man told you to keep you from realizing who you really are. You _are_ beautiful, worthy, and important, and may Ronald Weasley rot in **hell** for making you think any different.”

She looked at their hands and then to him. Hermione was red-eyed and forlorn. “Can we talk about this another time.”

“Yes, but only if you agree to consider what I have said.” Severus bargained.

His gambit seemed to work because she gave him a slight smile with her watery eyes. “I will try.”

“That is all that I ask,” Severus said, kissing her right hand. 

He stretched his arms above his head, his back cracking.

“Are you still tired?” Hermione asked him.

He nodded with a yawn.

She turned around the sofa, walking toward his bed chambers. “I think I can stay on my stomach in your bed. I can’t make you sleep in that chair again.”

“I would do it for you again, but I will not deny a chance to actually lie down. Are you certain you will be fine?” Severus asked, following her. 

The allure of his bed was intense, but he did not want her to hurt herself.

By the time he was in the room, she was already sitting on his bed. “If I am not, I will simply get up.” 

Severus moved around to the other side, sinking into the welcome comfort. “I expect you to wake me.”

Hermione nodded, lying on her stomach next to him.

He wrapped his arm around his pillow, tucking his head into it with another yawn. He closed his eyes, his body sinking into the familiar mattress.

“Severus?” 

“Yes?” He opened one eye, seeing that she was watching him.

She leaned toward him, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Goodnight.” He tried to be gruff, but he couldn’t with a smile on his face.

He didn’t even need to count to fall asleep.

* * *

Severus came to consciousness abruptly. 

Something was gliding over the bare skin of his back.

It took him a moment longer to realize that it was Hermione’s fingers. He lay there quietly, continuing to act as if he were sleeping. 

Her fingers seemed to pause and start over, tracing the same patterns. 

He was puzzled for a moment as to what she was doing; all his faculties not quite awake yet. 

It was when she swept her finger over the back of his shoulder when he realized; she was tracing his scars.

Her touch was soft and warm, and he did not find it unpleasant. 

Severus continued to breathe deeply as if he were in slumber still, trying to not startle her. 

He wanted to see what she was going to do; if she would do anything aside from touching his scars. People were often more open when they thought they were around a sleeping person.

It was evident that she was trying not to wake him, only softly humming as her fingers splayed over his skin. He found it soothing, and if he were not intent on privately observing her, he could have quickly fallen back to sleep.

Unfortunately, his bladder began to protest against his game because he was now awake.

He shifted, and her fingers withdrew. 

Severus found that immediately that he missed the sensation.

“Did I wake you?” She whispered, and he turned toward her, opening his eyes.

He touched her face to reassure her, as her eyes were downcast and her lips drawn down.

“Pleasantly so. Unfortunately, a biological function required me to interrupt you.” Severus rolled from the bed, his knee creaking as he took to his feet.

“I’m sorry, I was just-” She began to stutter off, before falling silent.

Severus strode to the lavatory, as the urgency was becoming tantamount. “I expect you to finish that statement when I return.”

Once he had silenced the protest of his body, he returned to find her under his duvet, her eyes watching the bathroom door.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She apologized.

Severus walked around the bed, his feet cold on the bare stone. “I am sure of that. I am not upset, Hermione.”

Her face shifted through several emotions rapidly, and he found that he could not keep up with them. “Oh. I just thought you might be- with me not asking.”

“If I did not wish you to touch me, I would clearly tell you so. While this is not carte blanche to grope me in my sleep, your gentle touches were- relaxing and welcome.” Severus offered as he sat on the bed, stretching out his limbs.

Her voice was low, and he thought he heard a touch of remorse in it. “I wouldn’t grope you in your sleep.”

“I assumed so, but perhaps having ground rules and limits will assuage you of that massive guilt that constantly rides upon your shoulders.” He explained, shifting and tucking himself under the sheet up to his waist. He would generally sleep atop the covers, but the dungeons were not as warm as he rooms, and he was not in the mood to freeze in his sleep. The sheet still was separate from the duvet, so there was a layer to make her feel safer, but he would not freeze.

Rolling to his side so that his back was turned to her once more, he relaxed into the pillow. “You may resume if you wish.”

“Um- you sure you do not mind.” She was hesitant; he could hear it how her words seemed to trip out of her mouth.

Looking over his shoulder at her, he rose an eyebrow. It was to ask her if she thought he was lying to her. Her face seemed apprehensive, and so he laid back down with a yawn.

“I do not mind. I would like to know why you did it, but I do not mind.” He assured her, closing his eyes.

“I was thinking.”

Her fingers tentatively touched him again and then withdrew. Hermione did this several times as if she expected him to lash out at her for its audacity. To remove that fear from her, he reached around, gently grasping her hand. He placed it on his shoulder, patting her knuckles.

Severus could feel her tense at first, and then seemingly, she must have relaxed. Her fingers began to, once again, trace over the history written in his skin.

“Am I to ask you what about, or are you gathering your thoughts?” He muttered softly.

Her fingers jumped from his back, and he assumed that she had forgotten that she was talking about all. 

“About what you said earlier. About- how I can see you and not your scars. And, I just, you were lying here and I- I wanted to feel them.” Hermione’s breath passed over his shoulders, and he could sense that she’d drawn closer to him.

“That is an acceptable response. Did my scars feel as you thought they would.” Severus asked her with a hum, now openly enjoying her ministrations.

“Softer. Some are rough and looked like they didn’t heal right, but most of them are soft lines.” Her fingers ran over his spine tenderly, sending a chill up him.

He admitted that he was surprised that most of them did not feel jagged and rough. “Most of them did not get the attention of a healer.”

“Why?”

Severus half-shrugged. “Time. Stubbornness. A war raging.”

A quiet settled between them. Severus relished her touch, as it sent warm spirals through him. Her fingers never pressed hard into his skin; it was always as if she were afraid at any minute he would grow angry, and she would have to withdraw.

It made Severus wonder how it had been with her ex-husband. If all touch had to be begun by him and that any attempts at affection on her behalf were ignored or corrupted. He decided that it didn’t matter either way because he would help her come to a point where touch was something she was no longer afraid of.

“How did you get so scarred.” She broke through the surface of his thoughts. 

He pushed his hand through the hair that was over his face, sighing deeply. “Many things in my life that I either had no control of or that I deeply regret now.”

“Sorry I asked.” Her voice dropped.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Don’t be.”

“Do you want me to stop, so you can go to sleep,” Hermione asked him after another silence.

He snorted. “Hermione, this is so relaxing that I am struggling to stay awake.”

His words were real, his eyes were heavily lidded at this point, his breathing deep. Something about Hermione's touch was drawing him into a slumber.

“Then go back to sleep.” Hermione urged, her fingers pressing into the sickle-shaped scar that ran over his shoulder. He could tell by the motions her pointer made.

As much as his body desired to sleep, Severus did not want to travel back to Morpheus's lands. Not now, when he had her lavishing him in luxury, that was her touch. 

He shook his head, his hand adjusting his pillow under his head. “I wish to savor this interaction. It has been a long time since I have felt-”

He stopped himself. Did he really want this conversation to steer into his own deprivation of interaction?

“Hmm- felt what?” She asked him quietly. 

He knew that there was no chance, of course. Severus did not want her to feel like she had to do this for him. No, he wanted her to do this for her. He thought carefully about his words and what he’d read about these kinds of situations, but unfortunately, he was not as much as he would have liked. Life seemed to keep getting in the way of his reading.

“It has been a long time since someone has touched my skin like this.” Severus finally settled on how to answer her.

She traced three scratches across his ribs. “How long.”

“Years.” He exhaled, trying to conceal the mingled emotions of the matter.

Hermione went quiet, thoughtfully quiet for a moment, and Severus wondered if he’d already ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” He asked in confusion. Hermione had not a single thing to be sorry for in this conversation.

“I’m not sure.”

With exasperation, he grumbled at her. “Then stop saying it. You owe the world no apology, nor do you owe me one.”

Her hand stopped on his back, not retreated, but no longer moving. He cursed his own aggravation. 

“It’s difficult.” She whispered.

It was with exposed honesty that he responded, hoping that she understood. “All the important things in life are.”

More quiet and his heartbeat loudly against his breastbone. Hermione's hand was still. It then flexed against his skin, her knuckles running over his shoulder bone.

“Severus?” Her questioning tone cut through the silence.

“Yes?” He braced for whatever was to come, not knowing if he’d upset her, but not daring to turn around.

“Did you meant it?” There was accusation in her tone.

Severus wasn’t sure what she was referring to; after all, he’d said a great deal in this conversation. He didn’t care for the fact that he wasn’t following her train of thought.

“Which particular thing are you referring to?” Severus inquired.

She sighed, her hand withdrawing totally from his skin. 

He could not help but feel bereft of it. But he waited in silent anticipation of her words.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Her voice trembled, and he could hear the sad desperation in her words.

He rolled now in place, facing her, taking her in. Severus placed his hand on her cheek, drawing her face toward him.

He had to handle this delicately, something he was not very well versed in. Hermione's expression begged of him some truth, and he could tell that there was much weighing on what he said next.

“Hermione, I am not a sentimental man, I have no notion of saying things to purely say them. I do not think you are beautiful.” He breathed, his finger pushing back her hair.

“Oh.” Hermione’s brown eyes were rimmed with tears, and she had brought her hand up to cover her lips. He could see they were trembling. 

Severus stole himself away from the breaking of her heart as he pushed onward with his words. His thumb ran under her eye, sweeping away tears that were starting to fall.

“I cannot merely _think_ something that is an absolute **truth**. I must  _ know _ it. You are beautiful to the point that at times I wish I had learned to paint rather than brew to capture your beauty forever. So instead, I simply watch you. I commit to memory your eyes, your face's lines, and how you smile into the rising sun. I do not think you are beautiful, Hermione, I know it.”

She gasped for air, a loud cry leaving her as she buried her face into his palm. 

Severus drew her into his arms, mindful to not touch the healing wound on her back. Cradling her to him, he placed a tender kiss to her brow. 

She pushed him back, and he let her go, as she lifted her head up to meet his eyes. She was smiling with tears in her eyes; it was quite a show of opposites.

“I think that was rather poetic for a man who is not sentimental.” She managed through her heavy breaths.

He smiled, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it gently. “Poetry is an art that I find rather comes easily when you are comfortable with the spoken word.”

Hemione began to laugh in his face, and while it was loud, he enjoyed the sound. It was not like some archangel singing, and it did not make the heavens open up, but it was nonetheless perfect to his ears.

“I suppose I should not be surprised, with your ‘bottle fame, brew glory’ speech.” She offered.

He could see that smile actually touched her eyes, that there was some manner of happiness that had managed to break through the self-hate and doubt. Severus was pleased with himself.

“You should not be.” He responded, his own face cracking into a smile that was meant only for her. 

Hermione curled herself against his bare chest, her face pressing into his collarbone. “Thank you.”

“It is nothing.” He offered, wrapping her in his arms once more.

A pop had them both start.

A bright party hat with moving robins was seen from the end of the bed. Queenie came around the end of the bed, looking at a square brown package in her hands.

“Professor Snape, Professor Granger, I have a-” The house-elf looked at them, took one look at Severus, and her eyes went as large as serving platters. “-EKK! Apologies, forgive Queenie! I will go.”

Hermione was half across him now, reaching for the elf. “Wait! Queenie, it is fine.”

The elf seemed to freeze and look between them again, her face hesitant. “I thought it was a private moment.”

“It was, but not that you need to run from. What do you have there?” Hermione asked.

Severus wanted to disagree with her; he could have continued without the elf barging into the quiet moment between them.

The elf looked at the package again and held it up. “A package for you both, from a Mr. Weasley.”

Severus lifted, wrapping around Hermione and intercepting the package before it could touch her hands. “Give it here.”

He lifted it, grabbing his wand and running several curse checking spells over it. It seemed benign.

He looked at the label, and it was from Mr. A. Weasley. What on earth could he be sending both of them

“Severus?” Hermione interrupted his thoughts, looking at him, curious. She was now kneeling over him, having adjusted from where he had swept her aside.

Severus held the box to her with curiosity. “Why is Arthur Weasley sending us a package addressed together?”

The worry on her face seemed to fade. Hermione sat on his lap then, grasping the box. “It’s better than it being from Ron.”

There was the distinctive pop of a quickly leaving house elf.

“Indeed.” He agreed, taking in a deep breath at her added weight. He did not mind it, and he was frankly surprised, but he had also not been prepared.

He watched as she opened the box, drawing a letter from it.

Severus watched as her eyes went wide, looking into the box and then back to the letter. 

He was about to ask her what it said when she began to speak. “Severus, these are the letters that Molly received from the diviner who said they were from Fred in the afterlife.”

He was gobsmacked. He could not believe that Molly Weasley had tried to contact her dead son through divination. That was not how the art worked, and indeed she knew that. The fact that Hermione was not surprised also begged other questions. What did she know that he did not?

“I beg your pardon, she was doing what?” He exclaimed, rolling up so that she was sitting on his thighs.

Hermione held her finger up, still reading the letter from Arthur.

“Your name is apparently in them.” Her brows knit together, looking at the box again.

He reached for the letter in her hands. “Let me see.”

Severus read over Arthur’s words, and they only provided more questions than the answers he sought. “Granger- Hermione, what is this.”

Hermione sighed deeply, running her hands through her hair as she looked as confused as him.

“Let me explain to you what he told me.”


	44. Letters from Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione's.
> 
> I know it is a short chapter, but says a lot of things in a quick space.

Hermione settled into his lap, flicking the letter open. She reread the words, making sure that it was, in fact, his handwriting. 

She’d seen birthday and Christmas cards from Arthur for years; she was sure it was not a fraud.

  
  


**Hermione and Professor Snape,**

**I did some digging into those letters I had told you about, and I find I am deeply disturbed by them. I should have read them sooner; perhaps we would have saved us all a lot of trouble. I have enclosed every piece of writing I can find from this woman. She knew a lot about my son, Fred, and much about the burrow and how he was at school. I can understand why Molly continued to talk to her.**

**But some of it borders on madness and ranting— Prophesy and protecting the family.**

**Severus, I am confident you are curious as to why I included you in this matter. It is because your name is mentioned far more than it is coincidental. I don’t know what Molly did with this information, but I feel that perhaps Molly may have acted against you.**

**Please, take these and do what you will with them. I don’t want them back. I cannot bear the sight of them. Whoever this woman is, she took my wife from me.**

**With love for Hermione, and respect to Severus,**

**Arthur Weasley**

  
  


She handed it to Severus again, opening the box on her lap. The top one was from 1998, just months after the battle. 

  
  


**Mrs. Weasley,**

**I send my deepest condolences for your loss. You do not know me, and I do not know you, but I have something important that I must share with you. My name is Reta Harkness, and I’m a divination master in Salem, Massachusetts. I specialize in spiritmancy or ghost speaking. I often help people continue on after tragic deaths.**

**I write only to you because a new apparition has been haunting me. He says that he is your son. I know that this is a time of great grief and pain, and I would not wish to cause you anymore. I do not want you to think me a charlatan, seizing a moment for some sort of gain. I want nothing from you, only to pass on what this young man has told me.**

**He says that his name is Fred Weasley. He appears to be freckled and red headed. He said you’d think I was ‘barmy’ for telling you this, but that I should ask you to look in ‘the burrow’ under the twelfth stair. He says that he hid something there long ago that no one but him would know about.**

**He wants you to know that it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. And that he wants you to stop crying in his room at night when you think his father isn’t listening.**

**He is not a frightening apparition, he seems good-natured, and he had done many things that seem to be geared at making me laugh when I feel as if I am drowning in my work.**

**As I said, I want nothing from you, only to offer your correspondence from him. He says that there are some things he wants to tell you before he goes on.**

**He describes death as a train station, and that he is not getting on the train until everything is set right.**

**I do hope my letter has not brought you more grief, as I only seek to aid. If you wish to ask something of your son, please do not hesitate to write. You are also welcome to visit me, should you desire, for tea or lunch.**

**With my greatest sympathy,**

**Reta.**

**PS: Fred mentions something about telling his brother that he has ‘an ear’ on things?**

  
  


Hermione felt a knot tie into her stomach as a tear trailed down her cheek. It made her miss Fred and the fantastic way he would try to make others smile. 

She folded the letter, setting it aside so that Severus could read it. 

She began reading the next, trying to understand what it all meant.

  
  


**Molly,**

**How lovely that you found what your son left for you. He told me the moment you opened it. I am glad that you reached back to me because your son is very talkative. Though, sometimes he pauses as if he is waiting for someone else to finish his sentences.**

**He speaks a lot of his brothers. There is a younger, Ronald that he worries about. He also speaks of a George and how he is glad that George ‘kept the business going’ in his honor. Said it would have been a waste not to.**

**Fred says that Ronald is drinking much too much and something about a woman he is madly in love with, but she spends her attention caring for ‘bats’? The dialect sometimes comes off strangely.**

**I welcome you coming to tea this Tuesday. I hope you will excuse me, as I don’t know how proper tea is had, but I will happily accommodate you. Fred says you aren’t one for pomp and circumstance anyways.**

**I look forward to finally meeting you. Fred speaks very highly of you.**

**Regards,**

**Reta**

  
  
  


So Molly had gone to see this woman too. Why had she never said anything to anyone about it? What was this about.

Many of the next letters were simple correspondence. It seemed like this Reta was a kind ear and compassionate friend for Molly, offering her advice and witty quips she said were given from Fred. 

It sounded like Fred; the more the woman described him, the more Hermione could see why Molly believed this woman.

Another letter, dated a month before Severus’s trial.

**Molly,**

**I write to you in haste as I have had a vision so great that it frightens me.**

**This girl you’ve spoken of, Hermione. She is the key to your family’s future or doom. I have seen it.**

**She and your son, the youngest one, Ron, are meant to be. They have to be together.**

**If you let her leave him, your family faces ruination, and your son faces death.**

**I try not to worry many with these things, I am not one who often has these visions, but Fred was adamant that I tell you this.**

**If they do not wed before the year is out, Fred is afraid his brother will be at the station too.**

**I hope that I am wrong. I hope that this is just the currents of magic pushing out possibilities and not the truth. But my gut argues against that hope.**

**I trust this finds you well,**

**Reta**

Another letter, shortly after the first.

**Molly,**

**Visions come to me now more than they ever have. I cannot sleep because of their intensity.**

**I see more about your son. How he will fall into vices and destroy himself for her love.**

**She is his soulmate, but he is not hers.**

**There is another, a dark twin flame that burns against a green background. I do not see his face, but I feel fear when I see it.**

**If this girl falls with her dark desire, then the Weasley’s will fall apart.**

**Fred says that he thinks I have seen ‘the great bat of the dungeons.” I do not know who he means.**

**Fred is upset; he has not cracked a joke in days.**

**I beg you, come visit, help me to dissect what I am seeing.**

**Reta**

The week after Severus’s trial another letter came,

**Molly,**

**Thank you for coming to see me. I feel so much better now that you have helped me understand who I see in these visions.**

**This man, this Severus Snape, you cannot let him poison her mind. You cannot because it will drive her to unhappiness and away from your son.**

**His life rises and sets on her affections.**

**Do what you must to make sure that they stay together.**

**Fred says that this man was honorable at one point or that he has been proven proper now. Appeal to that honor, try to see that he will destroy her if he keeps her. You are the only one who has the power to stop what is to come.**

**Reason with him. Know that you, the fates stand on your side, urging you to take action.**

**Once he lets go of her, she can never see him again, or his grasp will poison her and your family once more. Tell your son to protect her from him.**

**I wait for your word.**

**Reta**

Each letter seemed to dig into Hermione's heart.

**Molly,**

**You have no idea how much my heart sings to hear that they are engaged. The relief is overwhelming. Fred dipped all my cutlery in wax and stuck it to the ceiling today in joy. I will happily be removing it this evening.**

**Remember what I have said to you.**

**If that dark flame burns in her, it will burn everything you love away.**

**Hermione Granger can never see Severus Snape again.**

**You have to make sure of it.**

**I fear for you and the world as a whole if he should get his claws in her again.**

**With happiness and blessings to the young couple,**

**Reta**

The letters seemed to keep coming, adding to her pain.

**Molly,**

**I have read the letter you have sent me many times. I understand that she is resistant to your insistence. You do know best, however.**

**She must see it.**

**I had another vision the other night, but I thought to not tell you.**

**Fred says that I should.**

**If she has a child with her dark soulmate, the world will never be the same again.**

**We cannot let that happen; you have lost too much to have that happen.**

**Fred says that you’ve started humming again when you cook. He says it makes him happy to hear it. Don’t stop.**

**Reta**

_How could this woman have known all of this?..._

**Molly,**

**Congratulations on the nuptials. And not too late, either. The year is nearly done. I am sure you feel relief now.**

**Ronald should even out, she will temper his anger, and the drinking should become more normal. He will surely perish without her, but now that they are bound, he will be just fine.**

**Good job, momma.**

**I'm told that you expect a grandchild soon; Fred is over the moon and sends his best to his brother Bill.**

**I look forward to our next tea,**

**Reta**

  
  


Hermione was crying now, as she tried to put these pieces together. It didn’t make sense; how would this woman know these things. And why would she have been so adamant that she be with Ron? Were these real visions, or some machination.

Severus looked like he would murder someone; she felt fear at the depth of his anger. His eyes were narrowed, and she made to move from his lap.

“It is not toward you.” He breathed at her, looking away from her.

“I- I didn’t know. I have no idea about any of this,” She began to beg forgiveness, even though she didn’t know for what. Hermione slid from his lap, moving across the bed.

“Hermione, stop,” Severus asked, catching her hand.

She was so upset, because what did this all mean? _What was she reading?_

“Please. Don’t go. Stay with me, and we will find out who is behind this. It seems that someone has been meddling in our lives long before either of us knew about it.” Severus had calmed his face, his black eyes pleading her.

Her breathing was rapid now as her mind was racing. It took her a moment to even nod at Severus as she sunk to his side, pressing against his shoulder.

“Who is this?” Hermione sobbed, feeling betrayed and hurt so intensely it was as if her guts were being scooped out.

Severus inhaled angrily, wrapping his arm around her. “I have a suspicion of who I need to speak to find out.”

“Molly?” She asked, looking at the letter crumpled in her hand. 

There were still dozens of letters in the box that she’d not read, but she feared what she would find if she did.

Severus leaned his head against hers. It conflicted with her emotions because right there with him, she felt safe, but at the same time, her whole world was not what she thought it was.

“No, I fear that for all her meddling and her insipid interfering, she may have been manipulated too. No. Not her. But that last name. Do you remember the last name of your ex-husband’s lawyer.” Severus asked her quiet, rubbing his hand down her arm.

She could tell that he was trying to comfort her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember, but the pain of this was so much.

“A- I don’t, everything was so, it’s hard to breathe.” Hermione gasped out, feeling like she was going to hyperventilate.

Severus seemed to be someplace else in his mind. “Harkness. Darcy Harkness.”

“That is the same last name as this woman.” Hermione exhaled, shaking the letter offensively.

“Yes, and Shamus might know something about him that I do not,” Severus said to her.

Hermione pressed into him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Severus.” She managed to gasp out, and he turned, looking at her.

He was suddenly holding her face in his palms. “Merlin, woman. In, and then out, not at the same time.”

“Trying.” She shook her head, grabbing his wrists.

For several moments, they sat there as she tried to calm down.

Hermione felt so betrayed. But she didn’t know who to feel it about. It was worse than hating Ron because then Hermione had a target, someone to go for. But right now, she had nothing, but letters that spilled madness and had ruined her whole life.

Her whole adult life had been set up by some stranger. Someone who may have actually seen her future in a vision, or someone who was a very convincing liar.

Hermione wasn’t sure, but she was convinced that her heart would pound out of her chest. That her lungs were going to explode and that she would become nothing.

Except, he wouldn’t let her.

Severus was not letting her collapse and his anger was painted across his face.

And that made something in her snap. 

Severus's eyes were like hot coals burning in rage, and she took that into herself. 

Hermione was tired of crying; she was tired of feeling scared. 

Her hands drew into tight grasps on his hands, and she closed her eyes, letting a hot fire of rage ignite in her chest at the indignity that she had suffered.

_How dare…_ Hermione thought angrily, feeling her nose flare with each exhale. Her breathing seemed to slow now, but her heart was still beating loudly, this time with the fury in her chest.

“I am going to kill her.” Hermione breathed out through clenched teeth. “I will find her, and I will kill her, and there is no goddamn thing anyone will do to stop me.”

“Hermione.”

“No, Severus, I am serious.” She said, looking at him with the full intensity of her renewed outrage. Every part of her being felt like she was on fire. She was going to scorch the earth of who had done this to her.

This was angrier than she’d been at Ron. More furious than she’d been at Severus. It was angriest she had ever felt.

He blinked at her for a moment and then nodded. “I understand. I want you to know that I will help you find whoever did this.”

“You won’t try to stop me?” Hermione asked him with a strangled voice.

Something in him seemed resigned.“Could I, if I wanted to?”

“No.”

He nodded, letting her go and standing from the bed. With a snap of his wand, the letters were back in the box and sent to his desk. 

He looked over his shoulder at her, his shoulders rounded and bowed. “I think that we should both shower and take a trip to the ministry before classes begin.”

“I agree. And then, this weekend, I am going to Salem.” Hermione said, quickly getting to her feet. She was going to find this woman and make her pay for everything she’d suffered from her ‘visions’.

His hand caught her shoulder as she turned to walk away from him. “Not without me.”

“Severus.” Hermione looked at him, the anger abating only for her concern for him.

His expression was dark, and his lips were drawn tight. “If you think I am letting the woman I love to go on a murderous rampage without me there to help her clean up the mess, then you are misled.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” Hermione said, lifting and kissing his thin lips briefly.

“I will be here.”

She made for the floo, leaving with her mindset to go before Severus had a chance to change his mind.

  
  



	45. the first glimpse of darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

As soon as she left the room, Severus crumpled in his bathroom. 

It was from the exhaustion, it was from the pain of his joints, but more than that, it was from those thrice-damned letters. 

He was so angry that his hands were shaking. His throat was tight like the serpent had bitten him all over again and removed his ability to speak. All that left him was a furious roar. 

He grabbed the first thing that came to hand and chucked it.

The jar of soap crashed and shattered against the tile of the wall. 

A second jar followed it, Severus not caring that he would have a mess to clean up.

He pressed his head against the cold marble of his sink, trying to calm the maelstrom. 

Someone else had taken it on themself to control and shape his future. He had never been truly free. 

Another hidden manipulator had filled the void of Dumbledore and Riddle. 

He punched the hardwood cabinet in a fit of pique. It hurt like hell, and he cradled his hand back to his chest.

Tears filled his eyes to the brim. 

They were as hot as the burning in his chest, leaving behind wet trails of betrayal.

This had been all about Hermione. It had been about saving her, about righting the wrongs.

It had been. Until now.

Now it was about teaching the world at a whole that Severus Snape was not a puppet. That he would not continue to be lead by the nose by people who thought they knew best for him.

But he would not be foolish about this. Letting his anger reign him would guide him down the road of destruction. He needed to fall back on what he knew about bottling that anger and using it at the precise and perfect time.

Severus forced himself to his feet, flicking the wand at the mess as he summoned up his great self-control. It would not be the first time that he had to button himself into place in front of this mirror. He had just hoped that it had been the last time already and that he would not have to do it again.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to collect the anger up and tuck it into a neat bottle on his mind's shelf. 

But by the time he did, Hermione was already in his living area. 

Sighing deeply, he dressed, using a spell rather than hand to do his buttons today. 

Too much time had already been wasted.

When he joined her, he noticed that she was standing differently. Hermione had gathered up her wild mane of curls, taming them into submission it seemed. Her shoulders did not tilt forward, and her hand was resting on her hip. Even her face seemed different.

Instead of ill-fitting robes that she’d been slowly filling out again, she was in something akin to business robes. Severus appreciated the change in her; it was visually appealing. It was also very much a sign that Hermione was getting closer to the woman that had set him on fire in her first year and farther from the woman who thought she had no options.

“You received a letter while I was waiting,” Hermione said to him, breaking his train of thought.

Severus did not even look at his desk, striding to the fireplace. “It is of no matter, I will look at it when we return.”

He offered her his hand. Hermione took it, and he drew her into him, her back pressed against his chest. “Ministry of Magic.”

Severus gripped her tightly as the transportation network delivered them to the main floor. 

He barely missed a step as he moved toward their destination. 

However, he was not leading Hermione, as she was walking at his pace every step of the way. 

He wondered how her short legs kept up with his long strides, but he thought better than to ask.

Her face was stiff and tight. 

People cleared a path for them, and he wasn’t sure that it was strictly because he was moving like he was on a mission. 

Hermione was putting off waves of anger in every motion of her body.

Severus opened Shamus’s office door, and Hermione came in, crossing her arms.

“Severus, two visits in as many weeks?” The older man said, closing the folder on his desk.

Connerie seemed to look between Hermione and him.

“This is not a social call Shamus,” Severus explained with a sharp look.

Shamus leaned back, tucking his hands behind his head. “I assumed as much. What can I help you with.”

Hermione sighed, moving her hand to pinch her nose. 

Severus wanted to make sure that he spoke before Hermione took his head off. She looked angry enough to try to do so. “I need to know everything you know about Darcy Harkness, now.”

Shamus frowned, leaning forward in his chair and looking curiously. “That’s not exactly my field of expertise.”

Hermione huffed, shaking her head. ‘Why did he come up silver under the curse mist.”

Severus turned to her, his mouth falling open a bit at the fact that she hadn’t known the reason behind it. “Because he is a vampire, Hermione.”

‘You knew.” Her eyes went wide with the realization before narrowing back at him. Severus was not very comfortable with her looking at him, as he was sure, if she wanted to, she could set him on fire again.

He bowed his head in apology. “I did not realize that you did not.”

She growled, throwing her hands on the air. “It’s not exactly like I had more than two competent DADA teachers. We had to teach ourselves in the DA.”

Severus placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping that she would not bite it off as he turned back to his fellow compatriot. “Neither here nor there. Shamus, I need to know everything you can get me on him.”

“Why?” Shamus asked, his grey-blue eyes beseeching answers. 

Severus didn’t want to complicate the matter more than he had to. 

After all, if Hermione was planning a murder, he wouldn’t want Shamus to be implicated. 

All he needed was information, from there he could do everything else from there.

“Because I am calling in  _ that _ favor,” Severus said, glad that Hermione had not shied from his touch.

Shamus still looked skeptical. It was likely a natural extension of his profession. “Which favor.”

Drawing up, Severus tilted his head to the side, his voice a short reminder. “Remember when Rudophus had you in a cruciatus and I --”

“Alright, sit down. I’ll get his file.”

Severus knew then that Shamus understood how important this was. I was likely a dead end, but Severus was willing to bet that it was not. Too many coincidences had fallen in this direction. Severus gave her shoulder a squeeze, and then he sat down as asked.

“Why does he have a file here and not the DLME?” Hermione moved up behind his chair.

Shamus shrugged as he got to his feet, walking over to the old and rusty looking filing cabinet in his office. ‘Because he has some strange proclivities. And he is a representative of the Council of Nine.”

“The Council of Nine?” Hermione’s curiosity was getting the better of her anger. Severus could tell by the way that she’d relaxed, her hand now on his shoulder.

Shamus continued to rifle through the paperwork as he offered an answer to her. “The nine oldest vampires in existence. A self-governing council for vampires and their ilk. It’s not formally recognized, but they want it to be. They try to minimize the casualties between them and humans. Mostly so that people would stop hunting them for their hearts.”

Hermione gasped. “That’s horrible. They still are hunted?” 

Severus could feel her grip tighten on his shoulder.

“Not as much now, a bunch of rogue ones. Ones that the council says they have no control over. Harkness defends them on boat sides of the pond, apparently.” Shamus plucked a folder out; it was at least two inches thick. “Ah, here we go. What do you want to know?”

“Can I see it?” Severus asked the man, holding his hand out expectantly.

Shamus hesitated. “It’s confidential; you can’t use it to publicly attack him.”

Severus could not help but chuckle as he shook his head. “Not what I have in mind?”

There would be _nothing_ public about what he would do if this man was involved in this ploy to shift both of their lives around.

“Don’t make me regret this?” Shamus said, handing Severus the hefty manilla folder. 

He opened it, glancing over the front page and beginning to try to look for some clue. 

Hermione had leaned down over his shoulder, her breath washing across his chin.

Severus noticed that the man sat quietly, watching the two of them. 

He did not have his familiar look of merriment and mirth on his face. Severus looked up at him, raising his brow. 

Before him, the look on the man was the one of the battle-hardened Unspeakable, not of his friend Shamus Connerie.

He gestured to the folder and the two of them. “What is this about?”

Before Severus could get a word out, Hermione was speaking. “Someone is trying to destroy my life, and I want to know what he has to do with Reta Harkness.”

Shamus looked at Severus, and Severus could feel that he was probing for answers. Severus lowered his occlusion, allowing the man into his surface thoughts.

_...That is not very polite… What she says is the truth… _ Severus narrowed his eyes.

Shamus’s voice echoed in his mind. ... _ And your place in this… Aside from that you are smitten with her… _

_...I have a personal stake in her happiness… And I may have been a victim to this plot… _ Severus relaxed his gaze, giving a near imperceivable shake of his head.

Shamus seemed to get it. _ ...Very well… I shall see what I can weasel out of the normal channels… _

_...Do not stick your neck out too far… If this snaps back, it needs to hit  _ **_ me _ ** _ … not  _ **_ you _ ** _ … not  _ **_ her _ ** _ … _ The fact that he was pushing this mentally meant that he did not have to drive his seriousness home; it was already there in full force.

Shamus’s lips quirked up briefly. ... _ You are a strange man… _

_...Coming from you… A compliment… _ Severus offered, before closing the man out. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Could be a relative.” Shamus said, and Severus flicked his eyes back to the paper.

Severus and Hermione looked over the files for at least an hour, both of them barely saying a word, instead, pointing at objects that caught their attention.

It seemed that Harkness had a house in Salem. It was the only connection, as the file had no mention of a Reta Harkess. 

None of his know relatives had a name similar, and those that did were long since dead or executed. 

He’d killed at least a half a dozen people, all under self-defense according to the file. Most of them had been self-described hunters as it was. 

Severus imagined that made the case a little easier for him.

He’d worked for the Council of Nine for over six decades at this point. 

He was relatively young to be in their employ, but the notes offered that his youth was his boon, as he was more able to navigate the growing and changing world.

Hermione pointed at a picture that made him pause. It was of him shirtless, menacing at the camera. 

He had a tattoo across his left pectoral muscle. It was in gothic font, Latin words that he could not read from this distance.

Severus looked up, his eyes meeting Hermione’s browns, and it seemed like they had the same thought. 

"I’m taking this Shamus?” Severus said, holding up the photograph.

The wiry man looked up from his own file. “Now, I said you could see it, not take anything.”

Severus leaned forward, challenging Shamus with naught but an expression. “It’s a photo, I need it for some research, I will bring it back unharmed.”

Shamus did not seem phased, glancing between the photo and him. “If you damage that, we will both be in a world of trouble.”

“Worry not. Hermione, we need to get back to the castle, our classes will begin shortly.” Severus said, closing the file as he looked up at her.

Hermione took the picture, tucking it into her robe. ‘We should. Thank you, Mr. Connerie.”

“Shamus, please, any friend of Severus’s can call me by my first name. You survived him so far. You deserve it.” Shamus said, standing to let them out of the room.

Severus gave him a look and stood, leading Hermione to the door. “Goodbye, Shamus.”

“Bye, Severus, Miss Granger.”

Their walk was not as determined as it had been into the office. 

Hermione had seemed to cool, and Severus walked a step ahead of her, caring to not leave her behind.

“Severus!” A voice called to him, and he turned his head. The splotch of white hair was hard to miss.

Draco came bounding forward, with Viktor Krum just behind him. 

“Hermione too, what are you two doing here this early? It’s a school day?” Draco asked him.

Severus nodded. “It is, and we are on our way so that our pupils do not miss anything. Dare I ask what you have roped Mr. Krum into?”

Viktor smiled, giving Severus a respectful nod. “Professor, Draco is helping me vith some important paperwork. I vish to look for a flat nearby, to be closer to my--  _ gadzhe _ \- Draco, vhat is the vord I am looking for.”

Hermione interjected with haste. “Friend, Viktor.”

Severus watched as the young man looked at her strangely, tilting his head. He then looked to Severus and seemed to come to some realization, smiling back at Hermione.

“Of course, my skup, of course. Are you vell, Hermione? I am sorry I have not been by, it has been busy, vith all these changes in things.” Viktor asked her.

Severus felt Hermione move closer to him as she answered the young man. “I am. We really should be getting back.”

“Yes, we should.” Severus agreed, bowing to both young men before retaking his track to the exits.

They made it with no other interruption to his chambers.

Severus turned to Hermione, his head tilted as he closed the distance. 

He was looking down at her, and she smiled up at him. The fire in her eyes had not gone out; it was just calming flicking instead of raging.

“Hermione, you know that  _ gadzhe _ is not the word for friend in Bulgarian.” Severus offered, raising an eyebrow.

He watched as her lips curled up, her arms crossing in front of her. 

It was pleasant that his mock attempts at intimidating her did not cause her distress.

Her grin widened for a moment.“I do, but I didn’t think it would be prudent to mention it.”

Severus’s suspicions were correct then. He wasn’t sure how he felt about or if he was even right. But he knew that word meant ‘boyfriend.’

Severus immediately regretted but, but he asked for more information. “Is Draco, then um, a person who has the correct equipment for him?”

Her laughter did not make him happy; he felt as if she was laughing at him.

“You seem nervous to ask, so I will spare you. Draco and Viktor have been seeing each other for a while.” Hermione finally admitted, covering her face with her hand. She was still laughing. 

He wondered why he’d not been told, but he knew that Draco would have told him if he thought it was necessary. “Ah- I see. I suppose, if he is moving so close, then it must be serious.”

Her laughing disintegrated into a pure fit of giggles. 

Severus felt an embarrassed flush go up the side of his neck. 

He wasn’t sure why either.

Hermione bit her lip, placing her arm on his bicep. “Viktor says that Draco has the stars in his eyes and the body of a short Greek god. Normally he compares him to Hermes, says he is built for speed. Does that answer your question?”

She started cackling.

Severus took a step back from her, trying to wash the imagery she’d painted from his mind. “Oh, Circe, no, please _never_ repeat that to me again.”

His look of panic seemed quiet her laughter, and she nodded. “I think I can do that.”

He cleared his throat and shook his head. He held his hand out to her now, wanting the bounty of their perusal of the documents. “The photo, please.”

He watched her pull it from her robes, much of the mirth in her face gone. It had been replaced with a tight jaw and hard eyes. 

She took a long look at it and frowned, before handing it over. “Do you think it has a connection, the tattoo?”

He held it up, looking at the artwork again. The photo moved, fangs bared at his speculation. 

Severus shook his head. “I’m not sure, but I have a contact that may help us.”

“Who?” Hermione asked with concern. Her hand went to her back, a wince crawling over her face.

Severus remembered then that even for all her fury, she was still recovering from nearly dying.

_How had fate dropped a master tattoomancy into his circle of influence only hours before finding out that there was a connection to this man?..._

He wondered if someone else was at work, but he did not have the energy or time to investigate.

“The woman who saved your life.” He explained, walking toward his desk. 

His hourglass told him they had less than half an hour before the first class of the day began. 

He was already exhausted.

“Healer Shade?” Hermione asked him, sitting on top of the couch that had not yet been disfigured from its u-shape.

Severus offered. “The tattoomancer, Kate.”

He looked at his desk, and there was a letter from the woman in question on his desk. Or at least, he assumed it was, as he knew no other ‘Arabella’ and no one in their right mind would send him something with such colorful ink.

“Okay,” Hermione said quietly. 

Severus looked up at her. Her eyes were closed, her face dropped, with her lips edges reaching for the floor. He wasn’t sure what had caused her to sadden so quickly, what thought had pushed her into this mood, but he was not going to let it extinguish her.

He crossed the room, taking hold of her shoulders. Her eyes opened then, looking at him as if she was concerned.

“Listen to me, I need you to focus on your students and not injuring your back and more than it is. I will gather information, and tonight we will compare what we know.” Severus offered, knowing that she needed to heal before they could do anything. He could carry the weight of this research right now; he would happily dive into the mystery to find out who was after her.

“No.” Her eyes hardened, and Hermione stood up into his space. It forced him to take a half of a step back. 

Severus was confused. He did not think he’d said anything to anger her. “Pardon?”

Hermione put her hand on her hip, the other he felt placed firmly in the center of his chest. “I’m not a little girl. I’m not going to just keep my head down and let the  _ adults _ do the hard work. I didn’t, then, I won’t now. I am going to go to the library. If I am not teaching, that is where you will find me.”

She spun away from him, making as she was going to walk out of the room.

He’d not even thought that she would take it that way. “Hermione, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But it is what came out. I am your equal, and we will do this together. Or, I will do it alone.” She had stopped, looking over her shoulder, but not at him. At the floor, her voice was determined. 

Severus understood something then that he hadn’t before. 

She was _right._ She wasn’t a child any longer. 

Throughout this ordeal, he’d been keeping her in the dark, trying to _protect_ her, _hiding_ from her the plans he’d laid in place. 

He’d not done it out of malice, or even thought that he was treating her like a child. 

But he **had** been. Here was a woman that could hold her own against him, yet he’d been treating her like a first year.

Changes needed to be made, or else, he would never be worthy of her or happy with himself. 

He swallowed hard and joined her, where she stood.  Severus looked at her in the eyes, offering his respect for her.

“You are, in fact, _my_ _**equal**_. Now, if you find anything out, make sure you bring it after dinner.”

“Your place or mine.” She breathed out, the tension seeming to evaporate from her shoulders.

He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the asinine commentary that had decided to ghost through his mind. “Which do you prefer.”

“Mine, it’s warmer,” Hermione said firmly. 

‘Agreed.”

He turned, intent on going back to the desk and retrieving the letter before he had to make haste his first class of the day.

Hermione caught his arm, looking up at him. “Severus.”

He stopped, saying nothing, waiting for her reasoning for his halt.

She leaned up on her toes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.“Thank you.” 

The smile was hard to suppress, so he didn’t. 

“Anytime. Now, be off, lest your children decide to blast that horrid music of yours into my classroom.”

Hermione smiled back, walking to the door. “I thought you liked Beyonce?”

“I do not.” He groused, grabbing the letter and tucking it into his coat.

He heard her hum from behind him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Hermione.” He made sure to look at her before she left the room.

* * *

** Snape, or Professor, or whatever they call you, **

** Spent the whole night up researching the tattoos that I pulled off your girlfriend, her ex-husband, and his girlfriend. Try saying that nine times fast. **

** Anyways, I have many ideas, many concrete facts, and a lot of bad news for you. **

** You ever heard of the Council of Nine? **

** Bad News.  **

** So apparently, there is a big group of vampires who are literally older than dirt that acts as the ruling class for other vampires. Hey, you dress in all black, maybe you know about this. I’m kidding. **

** But I would have loved to see your face. **

** Anyways. That seal is called a Tenebris Cage. They use it to trap some kind of vampire in it. It was a little fuzzy on the details, and I did have to give a pint of blood for the information, so I may just be dizzy, but apparently, they dispense their own justice and to be put in those, well, you have to be a bad mamajama. They are often worn by the council members until they serve their sentence, or they cease to be. **

** I dunno, anyways, your three was for just one dude. Which is good, because, on someone who isn’t a Vampire, it can like suck all the joy and happiness out of you and like, turn you into a thrall. They apparently do that too. **

** So what I am thinking is that someone tried to punish Red with the tats, and somehow the ladies were collateral. I mean, my sketch ass friend said that it's very uncommon for these things to be put on people outside the community.  **

** Anyways, here's all the drawings and the list of what each of the tattoos had in them. **

** And my offer still stands; I’m up for the challenge of taking one of those bad boys off. But, not today, because I need a nap and some orange juice. **

** Tell the lady I said HEY and that I’m glad she is still alive, and I hope to be seeing you soon. **

** XOXODASHKATE **

** Red Headed Asshole - **

** 0- Cover (cannons) **

** 1- Aggression Amp **

** 2 - Reverse Addiction Amp **

** 3- Sex Amp **

** 4- Sub Tat **

** 5- Soul-mate Tat **

** 7- Tenebris Cage **

** Maria -  **

** 0- Cover (Heart with rose) **

** 1- Dom Tat **

** 2 - Soul mate tat **

** 3 - Tenebris Cage **

** Hermione - **

** 0- Bad burn **

** 1- Tracker **

** 2 - Depression Amp **

** 3 - Anger Suppress Amp **

** 4 - Tenebris Cage **

Severus took a deep breath and counted backward, doing his best to not flip his desk over with the sheer force of his anger. 

No wonder Hermione had lost her edge. She’d had it literally suppressed out of her.

_ I am going to kill whoever did this to my witch… _ He snarled, his eyes flicking to the photograph of Darcy Harkness. 

The connection didn’t make sense to him, but he would figure it out. And when he did, he hoped they were ready for him.

Severus needed to take a walk. 

He still had most of the hour of his planning period, and he’d already seen Hermione rush off toward the sanctuary of the library. 

He needed to blow off the steam and think. 

He tucked the letter away in his drawer that was becoming overly full and locked it.

Severus made for the grounds. 

Most of the snow had cleared by now, only drifts of it left in the forbidden forest's darker confines.

He had made it almost to the exit doors when he heard his name.

“Severus?”

He turned, looking at Minerva in a query.

“So glad I caught you. Were you going to Hogsmeade?” She asked, coming to stand to his left. Severus noted that she looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes.

He shook his head. “I was not.”

Minerva seemed to deflate more at his response. “Oh, well, then never mind.”

“Did you need something, Headmistress,” Severus asked, tilting his head in such a way that he hoped would express that he was willing to do some errand for her.

He observed her rub her eyes behind her glasses and sigh. “Perhaps my eyes checked.”

“Headmistress,” Severus asked, this time with concern in his voice. The more he looked at her, the more he realized that she seemed strained and taxed.

She clasped her hands in front of her, looking at him and then the doors. “I was going to ask you to grab a parcel from the station. I’d gone this morning to get it, but it wasn’t on the first train, so it is likely on the 11.”

It was not an unusual request and one he could do quickly and still return to his classes. It might even do him some good to get some distance as he tried to understand what he was facing. “I can do that.”

He turned to leave her, taking it as the end to their conversation when she stopped him with a touch to his arm.

“But, I saw something very strange.” Minerva offered, and he wondered if this is what was troubling her.

“Yes.”

Minerva made a pinched expression, rubbing her hands together. It looked like guilt.  “Do you remember Marietta Edgecombe?”

Severus turned to her, brows raised. The name was not one he’d forgotten; she was one of the poor children he’d been forced to veritaserum when under Umbridge’s reign. “She was the one who ratted Potter and his Dumbledore’s Army out to the great pink toad.”

Minerva nodded. “The very same. Well, as I was walking from the train, I saw her. I haven't seen her since that year. She was walking with a very tall man, dark hair. I did not like the look of him, but I was astounded. I thought she’d died for some reason, but now that I think of it, I don’t know why I did.”

_Ah, that was the cause of her guilt. She’d mistaken someone for dead and realized she’d never followed up on the girl..._ Severus understood the distressed look on her face now. It did not explain the ragged, tired expression, however.

“Many people died in those times, Minerva.” He tried to soothe her thoughts.

Her exhale was deep, her shoulders moving with it. “I know, well, if you can get the parcel, bring it up to me, please. It is supposed to be the new textbooks to replace the ones that Hagrid’s blast-ended newts destroyed.”

“I- Yes, Headmistress.” He nodded. Severus had not been aware of this disaster, but now that he thought on it, he’d been doing the bare minimum in his duties to see to Hermione. He wondered what else he’d missed.

Minerva turned to walk away and then stopped. “And do come by for a cup of tea. I understand that you’ve been busy with personal affairs, but I’d like to talk to you about some school matters. And a chat.”

“I’d almost think you were missing my company.” He quipped back, giving her a pointed look.

She smiled, waving him off. “Don’t be foolish.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Minerva.” 

She ushered him off like he was a first year. “Go on, get, before I waste more of your time.”

Severus headed out into the chill, casting a warming charm before he set out for the village. He was very concerned now about Minerva, in addition to the catastrophe that was at hand in his life with everything they’d discovered so far. 

Severus had never wanted to again test his shoulders' strength, but he felt that the grand scheme of things did not care what he wanted or not. Much rested on his shoulders, and he would have to get her personal life in order soon to solve this mystery so that he could go back to his professional life and assist Minerva. 

He was not Atlas; he would need to solve this quickly. And he felt like the pieces of the puzzle was coming together.


	46. Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione

Her morning classes were easy, for which she was very thankful for. 

Her back burned and itched and she’d have enjoyed clawing the skin off if she could. 

They were going over various forms of muggle transportation and how they were either more or less effective than wizarding. It meant the student could group and discuss, and Hermione could think.

There was so much going on, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was much more clear-headed now. 

Hermione was itching, literally and figuratively, for her planning period. She knew just what she would start looking for and had many notes she needed to take. It could not come quickly enough.

She ushered her students out as soon as the clock chimed the hour. 

Her class was out before Severus’s, and she popped her head in, giving him a wave and a smile. He only nodded his head, continuing his lecture. Many of his students seemed to look like they were antsy to leave.

Hermione rushed off to the library then, skipping some steps because of her eagerness. 

Madam Pince smiled at her as she waltzed past, and Hermione returned it. The anger in her chest, having had no true outlet, had converted to something else. Drive.

Stepping into the restricted section, she pulled several books from the shelves and then transfigured herself a desk. Here she would be least likely to be bothered by students and could work as she wanted.

Opening her beaded bag, which she still carried with her everywhere, she searched for something important.

While she’d been teaching, she recalled something from the letters that had made her pause. Fred would have never used wax to stick something to a ceiling. She was absolutely sure that he’d use a sticking charm, and since she’d seen Peeve’s do it more than once, she knew that that magic was possible for an apparition. 

She pulled out a thin brown notebook. It was wrapped with a leather cord with silver fittings. Her DA coin had been punched and looped on to it. Harry had thought she was bonkers for keeping a lesson plan for Dumbledore’s Army. That it could get them caught. But she had spelled it to look like arithmancy notes, and so she was able to keep track of everyone’s progress and what needed work. It had only been a quarter full. 

Her heart was a touch heavy at that. 

_ What could they have managed to teach everyone if they’d had more time? Would those skills have saved more lives? Could they have actually prevented some of the deaths that happened in these halls? _

She sighed deeply, opening the book and flipping through the pages. She remembered that Harry had tried to teach blasting hexes, and they’d used sticking charms to secure some of the dummies in odd angles in the room. They’d been trying to work on aiming around obstacles.

Hermione found the page she was looking for. Hermione had borrowed the school's grading system, as it was something she knew a lot about.

Sticking Charms Assessment:

**Outstanding (O)** \- Hannah, Susan, Angelina, Fred, George

**Exceeds Expectations (E)** \- Harry, Cho, Justin, Luna, Parvati, Ginny, Lee

**Acceptable (A)** \- Katie, Terry, Micheal, Lavender, Neville, Ernie, Padma, Dean

Need to work with the next session, maybe ask Professor Flitwick's advice.

**Poor (P)** \- Ron, Colin, Anthony

**Dreadful (D)** \- Dennis, Zacharias

**Troll(T)** \- Alicia, Marietta

It wasn’t a sure thing that this had anything to do with it. But Hermione had this feeling that whoever had fooled Molly had been helped by someone on this list. Someone who wouldn’t think of a sticking charm.

She was confident that the diviner had been a fraud; after all, she’d seen how ‘truthful’ Trelawney’s visions had been. Now for this to be so good, it had to be someone that knew Fred closely. It wouldn’t be one of his siblings. They’d never do that to Molly.

Hermione focused on the bottom seven of her list. 

**Ron** \- was an ass but loved his mother too much to cause her the pain. 

Hermione drew a line through his name.

**Colin** \- May he rest, died in the battle too. 

Another line.

**Anthony** \- She’d worked with him at the Ministry, he was happy to be working the file rooms, and she didn't think him capable. But she didn’t rule him out.

**Dennis** \- had gone on to become a photographer to honor his brother. He worked for Romilda. And he’d suffered loss too, very little chance that he’d try to trick Molly. It would have been too raw.

Trusting her gut, she drew a line through Dennis’s name as well.

**Zacharias** \- Hermione couldn’t remember where he’d ended up working, but he had settled down and had a little girl. They’d seen each other a few years ago in Diagon. While she didn’t think that it was him, she didn’t eliminate him. 

**Alicia** \- She’d been right there with her, fighting in the battle. She’d been wounded if Hermione remembered right and hadn’t been out of St. Mungos when the visits were to happen. She’d stopped to check on her when getting potions for Severus.

No, definitely not Alicia. Another line.

**Marietta** \- 

Hermione had to stop for a moment before she went on. There was still a great deal of anger in her chest at the girl. She understood, _Merlin did she understand_ , wanting to protect her mother, but she’d ruined everything. She took a deep breath, rubbing her eye behind her glasses.

**Marietta** \- Disappeared after fifth year, transferred elsewhere. Was not at the Battle of Hogwarts, was nowhere near what was going on with the Weasleys. 

Hermione drew a line through her name. 

That left her with Zacharias and Anthony. But it made no sense, neither of them was close to Fred, neither of them had a motive for this kind of thing.

Maybe she was looking in the wrong place. Hermione tucked the noted together in the book and grabbed the books she pulled down. 

_ Vampyres - The inclusive guide to everything about the cursed ones _

_ The Ancient Art of Tattoomancy  _

Hermione began to read the second book, setting a timer to give her a chance to make it back to her classroom on time.

Much to her chagrin, time seemed to speed by while she read. Standing and stretching, she made a small cry as the skin of her back pulled. It was tight and tender, like a bad sunburn that was healing. Gathering herself and shuffling everything into her bag, she left the restricted section.

"I have checked out two books.” She offered to the older witch who was sitting quietly behind the counter.

Madam Pince graced her with a smile. ‘Only two, my, expecting to be back this afternoon.”

“Yes, Madam. I shall see you then.” Hermione offered, receiving a nod from the woman as she walked out of the room.

It was only one flight up to her classroom, so Hermione took her time walking, mulling over her thoughts, and what she had read. 

Some of her students were already waiting outside the door for her, some of Severus’s too. 

It was okay, they still had at least ten minutes until class.

“Come on in you lot,” Hermione said, flicking the door open with her wand as she walked into the room. 

As she made it to the front of her class, her students began to cajole her with requests.

‘Can we please have music today?”

“Please, Professor Granger. I’ve done all my homework in all my classes.”

“I was nice to Filch.”

‘Please.”

Hermione relented, though, she’d not actually planned on playing music today. She usually reserved it for Fridays or days when they had done exceptionally well on a test. It pleased her that her class was cultivating an appreciation for muggle entertainment in her students. She also seemed to notice that children who had opted for a study session this period would drift to her class when there was music. Many of them were muggle-born or half-bloods. She supposed it might make them feel a little more at him.

Hermione drew the enchanted CD player from the cabinet, placing it on her desk. “Very well, but let’s try something tasteful. Professor Snape does not seem to appreciate Beyonce’s ‘Dangerously in Love’ from last week.”

There was a collective sigh.

Professor Granger crossed her arm, giving them all a pointed stare. “I am sure there is some muggle music that will not make him want to murder us for murdering his ears.”

Her students looked between each other for a few moments. 

A hand in the back shot up a Hufflepuff, Velma Jenkins, drawing attention to herself.

When the class looked at her, she seemed to shrink. “Um… I have some kind of dark stuff. It’s not bad, but it’s not happy bubblegum pop either. It's Alternative rock.”

Hermione could not think of a single time that this child had spoken in class if she wasn’t spoken to. 

It made her weigh heavily in favor of the student’s choice.

“Professor Snape does not necessarily like dark stuff, but what do you have?” Hermione asked, holding her hand out.

The girl reached into her bag, shuffling and pulling out a black and red CD case. “AFI’s ‘Sing the Sorrow.’ I came out last year, and I just had my cousin send it to me.”

Hermione took it, looking it over. She understood why the girl would call it dark; the cover art alone seemed foreboding.

“Okay, Class, what do you think?” Hermoine held it up for their examination. Hermione was not going to restrict them to just one genre, and she didn’t know, she might enjoy this herself.

The class seemed to agree, nodding. It was likely because everyone else hadn’t had an idea, or hadn’t brought their CD’s because it wasn’t a music day.

“As long as it’s not quiet while we do our work, I don’t care.”

Hermione turned, putting the disk in the device. “The yes's have it.”

She flicked the door closed; anyone who came in after that would be considered late. 

She’d learned that from Severus, which made it much easier for her to maintain her attendance records. Many things he did that she thought were just to make their lives more problematic as a student were to make his life less stressful as a teacher.

“The best songs are numbers 4, 5, and 6, but we can start at the beginning.” Velma offered.

Hermione tapped the player, setting it to the fourth song on the disk.

“Before we begin, you will be reading chapter 14, sections 5, 6, and 7. Then you will pair in your groups and compare and contrast Muggle Transportation to Wizarding Transportation. Then pick your favorite and give me half afoot as to why it is your favorite.” Her class began to get their books, shuffling off with their partners to get to work.

Hermione started the music, going to her desk. It was not what she was expecting, the vocals were very pleasing, and the music wasn’t offensive. Hermione began to mark the papers that she’d not gotten to the night before.

Her door opened, and Hermione looked up. 

Minerva was standing there with a concerned expression. Hermione flicked the music off, standing from her stool.

“Sorry to disturb your lesson, Professor Granger,” Minerva said, a slight warble in her voice.

That told her all she needed to know about the nature of the meeting. That was the tone she used when they were younger, and something had gone drastically wrong.

“Is something wrong?”

Minerva stood in the door, hands in front of her. “Have you seen Professor Snape?”

Her heart climbed into her throat.

She barely managed to get the words out in a professional manner. “Last, I saw Severus, he was teaching his class before planning. Why?”

A frown climbed over Minerva’s face as her eyes grew slightly wider with worry. She tilted her head to the side, walking a step forward. “I’d sent him on an errand to Hogsmeade, and he’s not brought me back the parcel, and his classroom is full of rather confused students. It is not like Severus to be late.”

“No, it is not.” Hermione swallowed, feeling the blood draining from her face.

There was a long pause, even the students were quiet, watching the two of them. Hermione took a deep breath, calming the ball of anxious energy that began bouncing around in her chest.

Minerva looked to the door and back to her. “Might I send his students in here until he returns? You know what bored children can do to a 

classroom.”

“Of course, Headmistress. Are you sending someone to go see if he needs assistance with the parcel?”Hermione nodded, trying to keep her composure. Inside, she was screaming. Severus did not do late or lazy. Something had to have happened; why did he leave the school grounds.

_ Oh Circe, did someone have him…  _ Hermione’s chest ached, but she plastered a calm exterior on her face.

“Hagrid is already on his way, said that he saw the Professor go into the village, but that he’d not been back yet,” Minerva explained, turning back to the door.

Hermione’s voice was quieter. “Please let me know when he returns.”

“I shall.” Minerva nodded, leaving the room.

Hermione walked to her podium, putting her hands on it to gain her self control. Part of her wanted to say screw responsibility and rush out to find him, but another part told her that he’d be disappointed if she did and that he was fully capable of handling himself. 

It didn’t ease the upset in her stomach.

A gaggle of children was ushered into her classroom. Her own students were looking to her for direction. Taking a calming breath through her nose, Hermione turned, clapping her hands together. ‘Alright, Defense Against the Dark Arts, welcome to Muggle Studies. Buddy up with my students and read along until your Professor arrives. My class, please share your text and help them along in the discussion.”

“Do we still get the music?” Velma whinged.

Hermione nodded her head. “I suppose.”

She waited while all the students found a place before setting the music back on. Lowering the volume, she paced at the back of the class, straining to hear if someone was walking this way. She was wringing her hands but trying her best to focus on the students and what they were doing. 

  
  


She did not like this dichotomy of self.

  
  


It was nearly half an hour after classes had begun. Hermione felt like she was going to be ill with how intensely her stomach was churning.

The door opened.

Severus was standing there, his face set in a hard line. “I beg you forgive my tardiness, I was held back by a matter in Hogsmeade. I do hope my students did not give you any issues.”

Her heart beat loudly, and she let go of the breath she was holding. “No, they were well-behaved. Are you alright, Professor.”

She had to stop herself from rushing to him and checking him with her own hands. She had to conduct herself like a Professor and not some worried wife. 

_ Wife...? Girl, do not get those wires crossed… _ Hemione admonished herself.

Severus nodded his head at her. “I am, Professor Granger.”

“I am glad.” She exhaled, shaking out her hands that were red from her worrying.

His eyes looked to her hands and then back to her. His face did not change much from Professor Snape's visage, but she could see the concern.

“Obviously. Class, gather your things, and I expect you in my classroom in no less than five minutes. Professor Granger, might I have a word.”

Hermione nodded, looking to her students. “Yes, of course. Class, please continue with your assignments.”

As the children began to shuffle between the classrooms, Severus drew her behind one of the pillars that supported floors. 

Hermione took her chance now to touch him, to make sure he was alright. “Is everything alright? I was so worried.”

Severus’s face was tired now. “Hermione, please listen to me very carefully.”

His tone was so severe and deep that it worried her. “Alright.”

“You are not going to Salem this weekend.” His black eyes offered no room for argument. 

Hermione felt the spark of indignity at his words. ‘Excuse me, I think I made myself very clear that I am not going to be bossed around.”

He huffed and shook his head, leaning closer to her and clasping her arms. “Hermione, I just had a very taxing and infuriating encounter in Hogsmeade, my patience is thin, and I need you to trust me.”

“I need you to tell me why I need to trust in this then,” Hermione demanded, not cowing because he wanted her too. 

His voice was a low growl, rife with frustration.“Woman, isn’t that the very nature of _trust_ , you trust that I am right.”

He had her there. Hermione expelled the air from her lungs, nodding her head in silent agreement.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, curious why he was suddenly trying to stop her when he agreed this morning.

In his eyes, she saw a swirl of anger, and his jaw tightened. “I ran into Darcy Harkness and his wife.”

‘He has a wife?” Hermione exclaimed and then drew back in the mention of the tailoring bill from the courtroom.

Severus gritted his teeth, nodding. “He does.”

“What did he say, what did you do? Are you sure you are alright.” She wasn’t sure what had happened to make him so upset, but if he’d just had a nasty encounter with a vampire, that could explain it.

Severus rubbed his forehead and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I think I know who Reta Harkness is, and if I am right, you are not going to Salem this weekend because she is in Hogsmeade right now.”

A flame ignited in her chest. The woman who had possibly set all this in motion was in Hogsmeade. So close that she could literally throw a stone at her. 

“Are you serious?” Hermione asked, moving to look toward the stairs as if she expected this mystery woman to come up next.

Severus caught her chin, bringing her back to look at him. “Do I look like I am telling you this in _jest_?”

“No. Will you tell me what happened tonight?”

Severus nodded, releasing her chin. “Yes, now, please promise you will not do something very foolish and very _Gryffindor_ and go looking for them yourself.”

“I’m _not_ Harry.” She laughed, trying to diffuse the fact that she had thought about going on her own already.

“I want your word, Hermione,” Severus demanded.

She could not deny him. 

If he was this serious, then it meant that it could be dangerous. And the last time Hermione went to Hogsmeade, and he was this serious she’d -- she didn’t want to think about it.

“I promise I will not go looking for them.” She affirmed, looking directly into his eyes.

He showed some relief, the harshness falling from some of the lines. “Thank you for this and making sure those imbeciles do not destroy my class.”

“You are welcome.” Hermione offered him a soft smile. 

She turned now, thinking they were done when he caught her wrist. 

“Hermione.” He breathed.

She offered him a soft smile. “Severus.”

Her smile was not returned, and he drew her back toward him behind the pillar. “ _Please_ do not use that brilliant mind to get around what you have just promised me.”

“I wasn't thinking about it.” Hermione was honest; she had not started thinking about it.

He cleared his throat. “I _will_ consider it a breach of the _trust_ I have in you.”

“I understand.” Hermione bit her lip, understanding that he was trying to impress on her how important this was. 

She had no desire to break his trust; it was likely the only thing that allowed her to be so close and intimate with him. 

He let her wrist go, leaning his head against hers. “Now, go on, before our students think this is some tryst.”

“It _isn_ _’t?_ ” She teased with a wicked smile.

His eyes warned her. “ _Granger_.”

“ _Snape_.” She rose to the challenge.

Hermione pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, grinning happily as she withdrew.

“You will ruin the last scraps of the reputation I _have_ , you know this.” He grumbled, sighing as he turned to walk away.

She whispered as she took her place next to him toward her classroom door. “Do you care what they think?”

“Unfortunately. No.” He rumbled, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze.

At the door, he stopped, towering over her in the door frame. She thought he was trying to look like he was intimidating her. Hermione, however, did not feel the same way as a warm sensation washed over her. 

It hit her in the gut when she realized that it was an attraction, not the regular affectionate desire, but the baser form. 

She took in a deep breath, her hand grabbing a bit of her teaching robe to keep from reaching for him.

_ Merlin help me... _

“Go on, witch, teach them with that horrid music.” Severus snapped.

Hermione looked into her class, and every set of eyes was on them. 

"It’s not Beyonce.” She grinned.

The class exploded into laughter. Severus silenced it with a look.

“And for this, I thank the powers. Good day. Professor Granger.”

With that, he swooped away to his class.

  
  


Hermione was not comfortable with the sensations in her fingertips and how her chest felt hot, and her face flushed. It didn’t feel wrong, in fact, it felt very right, but a ball of fear glued itself behind her breast bone. 

Classes went by smoothly, and Hermione spent all her free moments reading the book on Vampires, trying to make sure she had a grasp on what they were dealing with. She knew about werewolves, but vampires were not something she had to worry about, as they seemed uninterested in Tom Riddle’s plan for witch and wizard domination.

By the time dinner came around, she was left with many notes in her journal and many more questions. She ate in quiet and alone.

Severus had not come to dinner.

Minerva assured her that he was taking care of some school matters for her.

It didn’t ease the feeling of sadness at not having him at her side. 

After dinner, she walked to her rooms, mulling everything over.

Her feelings.

Her anger.

The situation they found themselves in.

Hermione was so conflicted. She was so angry with Ron over everything, she was so hurt and so devastated. And with Molly, she felt rage and betrayal. But it occurred to her that they might not have known that they were being played.

It did not absolve Ron of the years of torture and the loss of her son. 

But it made it harder to reconcile her anger with him.

And there was everything with Severus. That new flush of -- arousal -- startled her. It was not that she thought that they’d be in an entirely chaste situation for the whole time. It was that she’d not even thought about it at all. Yes, she knew that Severus had respectfully distanced himself when he was experiencing his --- situations. But she’d not thought about it beyond that. It had been so long that Hermione could not remember the last time she felt that spike of desire.

It made her afraid. 

Not of him. It was so hard for Hermione to wrap her mind around it, but she was afraid of the concept of sex. It had- it wasn’t always that way. There was a time when she was interested and excited and wanted that kind of intimacy. And even not, as she thought about, the concept of that with Severus was not the issue. It wasn’t him. It was- It was her.

She was so wrapped in her thoughts that she nearly walked right past her door.

“Young one. The serpent waits for you.”

Medusa was in her cave this time. She held the door closed with her back as her invaders were trying to get into her lair. Her whole body was pressed against the rock as more than a dozen soldiers tried to overpower her. She seemed strained as she held them back. 

Hermione shook her head, knowing that offering to help would insult her guardian.

“How long has he been there,” Hermione asked, placing her hand on the fresco.

Medusa groaned.“Only for a few moments. Shall I open the door.”

“If you can.” Hermione waited, wondering if the battle would hinder her. 

It did not seem that it did, as the door slid open for her. 

Severus was sitting in his chair, looking over a few pieces of paper. 

He set them aside and stood as Hermione rounded the chairs in her living space.

Unexpectedly, he cupped her face, bringing her to him with a kiss. 

The warm sensation was back, and Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. 

Severus drew back, still holding her face while he looked in her eyes. 

“Thank you for not running off after them,” Severus whispered, worry lines around his eyes relaxing. 

Hermione rested her hands on his chest, trying to catch her breath and calm the stir inside her.  “I promised.”

He nodded and let her face go, his hands resting loosely on her arms.“Forgive me that I did not put as much stock in that as I should have.”

Hermione nodded her head, leaning forward to place her head on his chest. She took in the smell of him, the deep woodsy musk. It was entirely counterproductive to her quelling the warmth running down her spine. But it felt right, even as the fear pressed on her chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, and she surrendered to his embrace.

“Severus, what happened today.” She could barely manage the whisper as she tried to comprehend and analyze what she was feeling. 

He growled, the sound vibrating through his chest into her very being.“Someone _threatened_ my witch.”

“Who is your witch,” Hermione asked without thinking about it, so focused on the internal shifts.

He drew her back, looking down at her with a confused smile. “You, _you_ daft woman. You are _my witch_.”

Hermione’s mind caught with the conversation, and she started to stutter. “I am. I-”

“Was that too forward, did I just-” He drew back, the warm expression on his face turning hesitant.

Hermione shifted, pressing her finger to his lip, shaking her head. “No. You are stirring things up in me. Not bad, just have to adjust.”

Severus sighed, moving her fingers with his hand as he looked down at her mournfully. “Did he used to tell you that? That you were his witch?”

She didn’t want to think about the things that Ron called her right now, but she knew that he needed an answer. It was evident that he thought he had hurt her, and she wanted to tell him that he hadn’t.

“No, never. _His_ wife, _his_ girl. Just _his_.” Hermione looked at his neck to avoid his eyes, eyes resting on the caveat covering his neck.

With Ron, she’d been a trophy as much as she hated to think about it. She was another piece of his collection. 

So far, with Severus, he’d never made her feel like she was an object. He looked at her like she was a person, he talked to her, Merlin she thought Severus spoke to her more now than he had before when he was healing. 

And then they didn’t speak, it was a comfortable silence, not tense and heavy like the calm before the storm.

Severus frowned; she could see it in her peripheral vision. “I do not mean to exercise ownership over you. Please, do _not_ thi-”

She stopped him with a smile. “It’s okay. Does that make you _my wizard_?”

“If you will have me?” A slip of a smile snuck along the right side of his lips.

She thought about it for a moment, looking into his eyes. She could not find a single reason why this wasn’t what she wanted. In fact, it felt so right. She was buzzing with her affection and this new desire for him; there was no wrong concept of this in her.

With a devilish smile, she answered him with a kiss. Barely contained passion lead her, as he gently opened her mouth against him. She felt his hands on her sides, pulling her into him. Gratitude that he had not grabbed her back was lost as his tongue swept over her bottom lip. It went straight to the core of her. 

She jerked back, panting. 

Severus was equally breathless it seemed, as his fingers flexed against her ribs.

“Did we just become official?’ Hermione tried to tease.

His voice was warm as he managed an agreement, “I suppose we have. I am sorry that it is not romantic.”

She couldn’t help the breathless laugh that escaped her. “Severus, I have _had_ flowers and candy and moonlit dinners. It turned out to be hell. I would rather you be who you are than someone you aren’t for me.”

“I am _rather_ fond of moonlit dinners, mainly because it means you are eating in the dark, and people will leave you be.” He returned her tease, one hand coming up to touch her cheek.

Hermione closed her eyes as he touched her face. “Don’t tempt me, or I shall make you actually take me on a date.”

“As much as I would love to, you are _not_ leaving this castle until you and I find out why all this is happening and stop it before something truly devastating occurs.” Severus seemed to sober as he spoke.

Hermione took a step back to regain her composure, feeling bereft of his presence. 

As much as it was comfortable, there were more important things that needed to be discussed.

‘Who threatened me.”

“Darcy Harkness.”


	47. The First Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

The village was not bustling as it would be on a Hogsmeade weekend. 

Instead, it was mostly the people who worked and lived there and regular shoppers. 

Severus was appreciative of this. Usually, the residents did not address him unless there was some matter for the school, and he could move about his business as he desired with no interruption.

His mind was still on Minerva and how she looked so very distressed. 

He did not make more than passing eye contact with those in his vicinity. 

The fact that he had let his duties to the school slack because of personal developments brought him shame. 

Severus Snape was not a lazy man, not a singular person would be able to say so, but here he was, letting Minerva run the school without his aid. 

While she had been Deputy Headmistress under Dumbledore, the staff widely known that she ran most of the school for him. 

Dumbledore was too whimsical, bound up in his grand plans to focus on making sure that there were enough new beds for incoming students, or that letters were sent out to parents.

When Severus himself had been Headmaster, it was a bloody headache. 

Minerva thwarted him at every turn, making his life hell as she fought with the power she had to protect her children. 

It had been one of the worse years of his life.

When she took up the post after Severus had-- had abdicated his position as Headmaster, he understood that she would be best for the job. 

When she had offered him his current role, Severus had agreed that he would not let her suffer the overwhelming pressure herself. 

But here he was, doing just that. 

_Perhaps Hermione wouldn’t mind assisting… No, Severus, it is your duty… Hermione has much too much on her plate…_ Severus hissed at himself.

That was another part of his problem. 

Severus did not want to give up any of the time that he had with Hermione to address other issues. 

If she let hem, which she had been so far, he would be with her every free moment he had. 

It was new to him, as he couldn’t think of a time when he was so eager to be in someone’s presence.

Somehow, in such a short time, Hermione had become the primary focus of his life. 

He needed to find balance because he would not abandon her, but he could not leave Minerva running everything. It was unfair to her, and he owed her that.

  
  


Before he knew it, Severus found himself at the train station. 

In a brown suit, a portly man was standing next to luggage and crates and parcels, a shelf of parchment in his hand as he counted the objects. 

Severus approached him, silently waiting until the man noticed him. 

The Stationmaster startled when he looked up at him, and Severus tilted his head as he looked at him impassively.

“Ah, Professor, the Headmistress was here this morning for this parcel, but it came late. You here for it?” The man asked, pressing his foot against a large box.

Severus nodded, hands in front of him. “I am.”

“Sign here, and here you go.” The Stationmaster produced a parchment with the Hogwarts Crest on it, an official requisition for the new textbooks.

Severus imprinted his wand mark and then shrank the box, tucking it into his pocket. “Thank you, stationmaster.”

He had walked rather leisurely here, and the round clock at the train station showed that he had little more than a quarter of an hour to return. He could easily make that trek and be able to get Minerva the package.

Starting on his trek toward the castle in the distance, he did not walk as slowly as he had before. No one got into his way, as there was much room for moving around on the streets.

That did not mean that someone did not walk directly into him. 

Severus stopped, turning his head with narrow eyes. It was not as if he were invisible.

At first, all he saw was a parasol.

“Excuse me, Professor, I was not paying attention.” The parasol shifted back, revealing a young woman he had not seen in years.

“I would suggest you mind your step, Miss Edgecombe,” Severus warned.

Marietta Edgecombe should have looked closer to Hermione’s age, but Severus would have placed her age much younger. She still had the roundness of youth in her face, as if she had hardly aged since the last he saw her. Her eyes looked very odd as if they reflected more light than they took in. It was unsettling, to say the least.

“Yes, Professor. Might I ask you a question?”

He blinked at her slowly, before turning to walk away.

She touched his arm, and Severus drew it back, turning on her indignantly.

“I do not recall, Miss Edgecombe, it being appropriate to touch my person without my express permission.” Severus barked, taking a step away from her, his brow curled over his eyes.

She did not seem at all affected by his anger, instead softly smiling. “I had wanted to ask you a question.”

Severus swallowed back the discomfort of her appearance and crossed his arms impatiently. 

They were in the middle of the main strip; many eyes were on them at this point. 

He could almost hear the pause in the conversation and bated breath.

“And I am busy and do not have time to fool questions from young women that I do not trust.” Professor Snape snarked, glaring daggers at her.

Still, no response by the calm smile. “I can see that, but I will ask it anyway, Professor.”

“You are no longer my student,” He did not have time for this. 

Marietta took a step closer to him, within his personal space. “I am aware. Is it true?”

He did not answer her, towering over her. 

If she was going to get into his space, he was going to make her retreat. 

He would not be backed down, not here, not not.

“Is it true that you are madly in love with  _ Hermione Granger _ ?” The was the name hissed stirred something in his chest, a protectiveness.

He felt his chest contract as it seemed that an explosion had started within.

“Goodday, Miss Edgecombe.” Severus sneered, not moving until she backed away.

“Reta… Darling, I’ve been looking-” Severus watched as a man swooped into his view, arms wrapping around the young woman and pulling her back. 

Severus had started at the name, the connection coming quickly, adding fuel to the fire.

Darcy Harkness looked at him and glared.“- _ Snape _ . Has he been harassing you.”

The young woman smiled up at Darcy, touching his arm softly. “No, Darcy. I simply asked him a question, and he’s _refused_ to answer it.”

Severus stayed where he was, watching as the man looked between Marietta and him. 

Harkness was in charcoal robes with gold fittings. 

He looked out of place in the mostly humble village of Hogsmeade.

He ushered his wife toward Madam Puddifoots, as he spoke. “No matter, go on; your tea is going to get cold. Go on, I have a few things I would like to say to Professor Snape.”

Marietta grinned at Severus, turning and strolling toward the shop. Harkness watched her leave.

Severus waited until she was behind the closed door to assess the man- vampire, in front of him. 

He was in the middle of a busy street in broad daylight, meaning any chance for a confrontation was slim. 

The mythos that Vampires could not be in the sun had been a muggle explanation, as they were quite comfortable in it as long as they did not stay out long enough to get burnt.

“And what could an _esteemed_ lawyer such as your self need of Hogwarts.” Severus drawled after the silence lingered longer than he would have liked.

The expression that was given to him was a smile, but it was not entirely friendly. “Not of Hogwarts, of _you._ ”

Still holding his arms crossed, he scowled at the man. “I highly doubt I will be of any service to  _ you _ .”

“Be that as it may, I have respect for you.” Harkness flip overcoat back, putting his hand in his pocket.

Severus rose an eyebrow, allowing his anger to show. “Is that meant to  _ endear _ me to you?”

“No, It is meant for you to _appreciate_ this gesture.” Harkness hissed, moving into Severus’s space.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as a pulse of adrenaline surged through him. A growl escaped Severus’s throat. “What gesture.”

“A professional  _ courtesy _ .” The words were strung like drips of venom on a snakes fang.

Severus’s nose flared angrily. “And which  _ profession _ is that?”

“A rather personal one. I will only say this  **once** , Severus Snape. Your entanglement with Miss Granger  **will** bring you misfortune. Do not get in my wife’s  _ way _ again.” Harkness growled, and it was a sound like a predatory beast. 

Severus could see the malice behind the man’s words; they vibrated through him. 

He could feel the fear the man was trying to push into him. 

However, Occulmency was one of the few defenses against that power. 

Severus did not back down.

“Is that a _threat_.” He challenged his fingers already wrapped around his wand.

A glint of a sharpened canine under a curled lip joined the man’s response.“What was it your friend said, ah yes,  _ I don’t make threats _ ? Do you think that I do not know that you were the one to involve the Maestra of St. Mungos?”

There was a flicker of something in the man’s eyes; Severus could not determine what had changed the expression.

Severus pressed into the man’s space now, his nose barely a handsbreadth from Darcy’s. “I fear, you may be vastly  _ underestimating _ me; you will  **not** harm Miss Granger.”

“ _ I _ will not.” Harkness seemed to taunt him with the inflection. 

Severus got the message loud and clear. Darcy was not the one that wanted to go after his witch; it was the wife, Marietta Edgecombe, or as it was likely Harkness. 

The surge of protectiveness that he felt for Hermione almost suffocated him, as he realized he would do anything to protect her, even take on a vampire, and it’s thrall, or potentially _ two  _ vampires.

“Your wife will have to go  _ through _ me to get to her.” This was a promise that Severus let roll from his lips.

A feral smile with a haughty tone is what he received. “She is hoping on it, actually. I, however, see that as a  _ waste _ .”

“I’m sure you do.” Severus returned a contemptuous smile.

Harkness moved his head toward Severus’s, moving to whisper in his ear. “Take heed, if you continue to involve yourself, you will suffer the same  _ fate  _ as Hermione.”

Severus did not move, even as he felt the slightest touch of fear in his stomach. 

There was a predator near his neck that could, if he reacted slowly, kill him. 

However, Severus knew that this entire act was to scare him and show that Harkness had some kind of power over Severus.

Severus would not give him that power.

It was worth the risk to show this beast that he had no power here. 

Exhaling from his nose, Severus attempted to still his racing heartbeat, knowing that Harkness could hear it this close.

Gritting his teeth, he managed to grind out a warning. “I would recommend that you and your spouse finish your tea and **leave** Hogsmeade on the next train out, lest you find out precisely how much _offense_ I’ve taken.”

He heard a chuckle as the man drew back. “You don’t frighten me.”

“And, you do  _ not _ frighten me.” Severus retorted, smiling cruelly.

More mirthless snickering from the vampire before him. “I like that about you.  _ Pity _ .”

“It is a  _ pity _ .”

  
  
  


Loud footfalls came across the stone, but Severus did not turn his head. He had not realized how quiet it had gotten.

That was until Hagrid broke the silence with a bellow. “Ho there! I been lookin’ for you all over, Professor Snape."

“It seems they’ve sent the calvary.” Harkness quipped, leaning back.

Severus did not need to look; he kept his eyes fixed on the man before him. 

He would not be the first to look away. 

“This is not  _ over _ , Harkness.” Severus cautioned.

The man took a step back, looking away from him toward the half-giant, all while still smirking. “You do not even know when it  _ began _ , Snape. Send my regard to the  _ mudblood _ , I hope to be seeing her  _ soon _ .”

  
  


**Mudblood.**

It screamed thought Severus’s mind like a harbinger of the rage that it summoned. 

Severus felt his fever hit a peak, and he moved into the man’s face again, his wand out now.

“If you come  **_anywhere_ ** near Hermione, there will be no coming  **back** from what I do to  _ you _ .” Severus felt the spittle on his chin from how angrily he assaulted the man with his warning.

Harkness looked at the wand in his face, pushing it aside. He took a step back, fixing his robes. “I see, she is the weak spot for you. **_Interesting._ ** I have my wife to attend, good day, sir.”

Harkness turned around, putting his back toward Severus as he went into the shop that the small woman had entered before him.

Hagrid was now right at Severus’s side, fist balled and looking imposing. 

Severus pinched his nose for a moment before regaining his composure, his wand tucked away. 

He looked up at Hagrid, who was looking around as if he was trying to understand what he’d just come upon.

"Severus, Professor McGonagall is fit t' be tied over the books she thought you was waiting on. Is that fella giving you the business?" The massive man asked, looking ready to pummel someone with his great fists.

Severus shook his head, pulling the parcel from his pocket and offering it to Hagrid. “No, Hagrid. Would you deliver these to Minerva.”

Hagrid took it, wrapping his fingers around the shrunken package, looking at Severus with concern. 

He straightened up when Severus gave him a pointed look and nodded. "A'right Professor, yer students is in with Professor Granger's class, so they wouldnae go wrecking the place in yours."

Severus looked at the clock on top of the confectionary. 

It was nearly a quarter after the time classes began from planning. 

Mentally cursing, he nodded at Hagrid in thanks and began marching to the castle.

He knew now, who Reta Harkness was, but he did not understand why she’d done this. 

It could not be from the curse that Hermione has put on her; this was too big for that. 

Indeed even this was more than some childhood vengeance.

Severus was now angrier than he had been when he left the castle, and he knew that there was no way that Hermione was going to Salem this weekend, or anywhere with him until he knew exactly what was going on.

* * *

Severus explained to Hermione what had happened in Hogsmeade that evening as they sat in her parlor. 

She’d gone from sitting in her own chair to being in his lap, looking his covered neck over as if she had expected him to be bitten.

He was blown away by how much she was fussing over him. 

It would have been irritating, had it been Poppy, or Minerva, but it was acceptable from her. 

Severus assumed it was because of how her brown eyes looked so tight with compassion.

“I- I already ruled her out, she was on my list, but-” Hermione offered, shaking her head at the news as her fingers rested on his caveat. 

Severus has his head turned to the side when he looked at her. “What list?”

“The sticking charms, Fred would never have used wax, it would have been someone who didn’t think about using a sticking charm. I looked in my course planner for the DA?” Hermione explained, setting her hand on his shoulder as she was draped across his lap. 

Indeed, he had not heard that right. 

_ Surely the Brightest Witch of her Age would not have kept a physical record of the underground club that could have gotten them severely hurt... _

Even though he knew this had to be him hearing her wrong, he had to ask her.

“You had a course planner for Dumbledore’s Army?”

Hermione nodded, looking at him as if this was not a problem. “Yes.”

He was thankful that it had never been discovered. “You foolish girl, what if you’d been found with it. I would have had to veritaserum you!”

Her brown eyes rolled at him as she shrugged. “I made it look like my Arithmancy notes, who was going to snoop through those.”

“Umbridge _would_ have,” Severus said seriously, trying to impress to her that it had been a very idiotic thing for her to do then.

“But, she _didn’t_.” Hermione offered. “Doesn’t matter now, she can’t do anything about them.”

Severus had to concede her point; there was no use in getting tied up about what could have happened. 

Not when there was the prospect of something happening soon that was much more important.

He was curious about the planner, he’d not gotten much information on the secret club, for obvious reasons, but he wondered what they had actually been teaching their peers. 

It was foolish to have students trying any of this on their own, but it had proved useful.

  
  


“May I see them?” Severus asked her, brushing some of the hair from her face.

Hermione leaned from him skeptically. “Promise you won’t take them?”

“Are you implying that I am going to confiscate something from you? I am hardly your professor anymore and were I still, this would be _beyond_ inappropriate.” Severus explained, gesturing to her in his lap so casually.

Hermione looked at him, her face flushing. “I suppose that is a bit silly.”

“Quite.” He confirmed.

  
  


Hermione climbed from his lap, leaving him room to breathe but also absent of her warmth. 

He watched as she withdrew a notebook from her bag, the one that she seemed to store all her belongings in. 

She unwrapped it before handing it to him, holding the coin that had been on in her had.

He took it, opening it to read it over. 

Instead of returning to his lap, Hermione sat in her chair. 

Her eyes were on him; it felt like she was trying to see his reaction to the work.

Severus read over the planner, noting how it was very organized and that it would have been very incriminating when it was written. 

He could tell that it had been charmed, he could feel the magic, but that didn’t mean it was infallible.

  
  


“Well-” She asked impatiently, and he chuckled.

He flipped a few more pages, coming to the Patronus lessons. “You were teaching a second-year how to cast a Patronus?”

He looked at her with curiosity. 

While Lupin had decided to teach harry in his third year, Severus did not allow students to learn it until the fifth year, as they would be better able to provide positive memories and had a firmer grasp on their power. 

The fact that a second-year could produce even a phantom of one was impressive.

"Not me, Harry, I was evaluating and learning.” Hermione offered with a smile.

Severus continued to read, seeing that Hermione had a very fair grasp of her peers' abilities. “Merlin’s beard, what could you have managed if you’d not been exposed.”

Her voice was quiet when she responded. “I ask myself that often. Do you think she did all this because of the curse.”

Severus looked up at her, seeing that she was frowning. 

He put the book aside on her table and offered for her to come back to join him.

Hermione rose from her seat, climbing back into his lap and tucking her head on his shoulder. 

The comfortable warmth returned to his stomach, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively. 

He made sure to avoid the place on her back that he knew had to be still healing.

“I’m not sure, but I don’t believe so.” He offered quietly.

Hermione sighed. He could hear the frustration in her voice. “I don’t understand this.”

Severus sat there quietly a few moments, considering what he did know and what had happened so far. 

It seemed like something too big for something so small. Perhaps, this was an attack on something she stood for, and not her. 

Even though it was very personal to do this.

“Can you think of any time in your work at the Ministry that you offended a vampire? Perhaps she is a part of something greater?” Severus questioned.

Hermione adjusted in his lap; he could see that her mind was working at his question. “I- I can’t think of it. I was too busy working on the House-Elf Freedom Proclamation and the Goblin Rights Act, I didn’t deal with Vampires at all.”

That wasn’t it then. It had to be something with the young woman. He could not get over the fact that she looked very young still; it meant that it was not long after she was gone from the school if she was turned.

“Hmm? Why did Marietta Edgecombe betray you?” Severus wondered aloud, not knowing if Hermione knew the answer or not.

It seemed that Hermione did know. 

“Her mother worked at the ministry, she was afraid she’d lose her job.” She explained with relatively little need to think about it. He was impressed that she remembered.

“Did she lose it?” 

_ If the girl's mother lost her job, it could increase the desire for revenge, but to this point?  _

It didn’t make much sense to Severus, and revenge was something he knew a bit about.

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know; I never saw her after that year.”

That was something they could likely look into through the Ministry or even Lucius. “Perhaps it is some vengeance on behalf of her mother?”

She pressed her head into his shoulder, and he could feel her shrink against him. “But a lot of people lost jobs and died, we were in the middle of a war. A cold one at that. And we were just-”

She stopped, and he knew what she was trying to say. “Just children.”

It was cruel, and he knew it that the world rested its fate on those children's shoulders. 

He carried the weight too, but he had been accustomed to it by then.

A comfortable silence pulled over them, like a shield from the world around them. 

Severus rested his head against hers, ignoring the pains in this shoulder that he was not in a comfortable position. 

It was a small price to pay for this moment of peace.

She was the first to yawn. 

“I am tired, and I cannot imagine that you aren’t, since you slept far less than I have.”  She stretched, and he watched as pain crossed her lips in a slight wobble.

“How is your back?” He offered, lifting his hands so that he would not hinder her movement.

Hermione provided him with a weak smile that did not reach her eyes. “It itches, but I will survive.”

Severus touched her cheek with his index finger. “Would you like me to give you something for it?”

Hermione shook her head and stood from him. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go to bed.”

Her hands were held out to him, her fingers wiggling as if she wanted to help him up. 

He thought about it for a moment, as he did not often take such offered to get to his own feet. 

But the way she sleepily smiled at her made it hard for him to deny her anything. 

He wrapped his long fingers around her hands, letting her pull him to his feet.

They went about their routine, as they had one now, of getting ready for bed. 

Severus had arrived in his sleeping clothes, so he laid down and waited for her to join him. 

Once she was out of the bathroom, she climbed into the bed next to him.

“Can I ask you something?” She seemed hesitant and had not yet taken her glasses off.

Severus looked up from the book, as he’d been reading where they had been last. “Yes.”

“Do you want to sleep without your shirt? You can, if you want, I mean. You don’t have to.” Hermione’s hands were fidgeting with the blanket, and she finally turned from him, removing her glasses.

“Are you sure,” Severus asked, waiting for her to look at him again.

It was a strange request that he was not expecting.

“Yes,” Hermione said, sheepishly. “I want to get used to- used to it. But you don’t have to. It’s just if you want to, I’m okay with it.” 

Severus thought for a moment about it. If she had built the courage to ask him, that meant it was essential to her and that she needed something from him. 

He wanted her to feel like she could ask him for things that she thought she wanted or needed. 

This was not a request that he really thought he needed to deny her.

Rolling forward, placing the book on his lap, 

Severus pulled the shirt off over his head. 

He tucked it on to the nightstand and looked at her.

“If it becomes uncomfortable, I will happily don my shirt again.” He explained as he tucked back into a comfortable position.

Hermione nodded and curled up to his side. 

She placed her hand on the center of his chest and laid her head on his shoulder.“Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, where were we.” He asked, placing a kiss to her forehead.

Hermione lifted her hand, placing it over his on the book. 

“Only read a little tonight; you need rest. But Chapter 9 is what I remember last.”

Severus read her to sleep, which nearly no time at all. 

Once she was soundly asleep, he drew his wand, casting wards over the bed on her. He ensured the door the balcony was locked.

Even then he didn't feel like she was safe enough.

He curled around her, holding her to his chest and fought sleep for as long as he could. 

If something would come, it could come at night, when they were thought to be unprepared.

  
  



	48. Occulsion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione

Ruins. 

It was nothing but shadowed ruins of a house. 

Hermione found herself walking barefoot through dust and detritus. 

It smelt like fire, but not just a house fire, but something alchemical. 

Something that burned the inside of her nose with every breath. 

The light was of the moon was very dim, and she could see no stars. 

_ How had she gotten here? Where was here? _

She continued to walk, stepping over a charred bed's remains, only the metal bed frame left behind. 

Ash seemed to swirl around her ankles.

She heard a cough behind one of the lone standing walls. 

Her pace quickened, her feet barely touching the ground.

There was a groan. It sounded like Severus.

Rounding the wall, she saw him there, lying on the ground, blood seeping from his neck into his clothes and the floor around him. 

It was like seeing him in the shack all over again. 

She rushed to his side, trying to cover the wound, but it kept bleeding.

“He doesn’t have to die.” A voice crooned smugly behind her. 

Shadows seemed to curled around her body as Hermione worked on saving him.

Hermione ignored the voice, trying to cast healing magic without her wand.

_ Where had she placed her wand? _

“Severus, hold on, please.” She cried as her magic seemed to stall. 

His blood poured over his hands, and she could see that he was growing paler by the minute.

Onyx eyes looking to hers with intensity. “Hermione.”

“Shush, save your strength, I can do this. I did it before I can do it again.” She pleaded, looking around for something to save him, his wand, her wand, anything. 

He coughed again. “This is-”

“It’s going to be okay.” Hermione trying to comfort him. He was growing cold under her fingertips.

“This is all _your_ fault.” Severus’s eyes changed to anger, and his last words were a snarl. 

He went limp against her, unmoving eyes staring at her accusingly.

“What. No. _Severus_!” Hermione screamed, trying to shake him awake. 

_ He couldn’t die. He couldn’t leave her. She needed him. She loved him. _

  
  


The voice sang again at him, filling the shadowy spaces with echoes. “He didn’t have to die; if you’d never came back, he’d _still_ be alive.”

“Shut up.” Hermione snapped, trying to revive Severus.

Still, it tormented her.

“What will you do now, little lioness, now that your protector and lover is dead because of _you_.”

She screamed, trying to will him alive. “Shut up! -Severus. I’m sorry.”

Hermione crumped on to his chest, which was cold as ice to her. Her bloodied hands grasped at his robes as she sobbed.

“You cannot hide from me, _lioness_. I have tasted your fear once, and I will seek it until you submit to me.” The echoes were louder now as if the voice was right over her.

“Why did you do this? Who are you?” Hermione looked up from Severus, trying to see the source of the voice.

She was met with violet eyes in the darkness.

Two sharp canines protruded from a hidden maw.

“I am Tenebris, and you are next.” 

The darkness swept over her.

“ **_No!_ ** ”

  
  
  
  


She was being jostled, arms around her torso, moving her back and forth. 

“Shush. Hermione, it is just a nightmare.” Severus’s voice rang through her ears.

Her eyes snapped open, and Severus was there, and he was alive.

“Oh, gods. Severus, you’re _alive_.” Hermione turned and kissed the first place she could reach, her fingers going to his neck to make sure that he was not bleeding. 

Her fingers found soften scar tissue, and she felt him tense against her.

But there was no blood. 

A surge of relief washed through Hermione, and she buried her face into his chest, breathing in the scent of him. 

“Last I checked, yes. Are you alright?” He whispered, his hands pulling her toward him.

“I- you were bleeding, I couldn’t save you, and there were these eyes, you said it was my fault.” Hermione began sniffling, wrapping herself around him.

_ He’s alive… I’m okay, it was a dream… _ Hermione mentally coached herself as she tried to be as close to him as she possibly could.

“Well, the only thing that is your fault at the moment is me being awake, but that can be forgiven. It was a nightmare, but I know how real they can be.” He whispered over her.

His fingers ran small circles over her back, and it was sending a calming sensation through her. 

Even when the edge of his fingers moved over the new skin, it was soothing and not painful.

“It felt real. I could smell it, touch it. I could feel the life ebb out of you.” Hermione shuddered in remembrance.

Lips pressed against her head, and a hot wash of breath moved over her crown. “Our mind often substitutes the things we know into our dreams. I am sorry.” 

Hermione held on to him like he was her lifeline. 

Tilting her head so that her ear was against his chest, she felt his heart under her. 

Its steady meter, mixed with his breath's cadence, finally brought her own vitals under control.

Her grip on him relaxed. 

The fetterings of the nightmare had, for the most part, slipped away as his presence enveloped her.

“Are you falling asleep?” He cleared his throat above her, and Hermione shook her head. She did not think she would be able to sleep again tonight.

He shifted, moving his arm out from under her with a groan. “Do you wish to fall back asleep without any nightmares.”

“I don’t take dreamless sleep.” Hermione reminded him.

The fear of addiction and helplessness was too much for her. 

Unless she was in recovery under supervision she trusted or unable to stop someone from giving it to her, Hermione did not take it.

His elbow bent back and forth above their heads, and she moved to give him more room. His arm must have fallen asleep. 

Severus made another noise of discomfort before holding her once more. 

“I have something else which I’ve made for my associate. It has some side effects, but if I give you half the normal dose, they will likely be minor.”

She looked at him now, the firelight from the other room, making him visible in the darkness.

“What is it?”

His hand left her again. 

There was a pause before he answered. Hermione could guess that he was debating something in his mind by the way the shadows moved across his face.

“It is currently named Nightmare Nougat.” He explained, his hand brushing through her hair.

That was a curious name for something that Severus would make; then again, he’d recently made Panic Puffs for this associate.

But Hermione was not going to agree to anything until she knew what it could do to her. 

Hermione probed. “And the side effects.”

Severus pressed a kiss to her forehead before sighing. "At full strength, it can induce dreams that are -- erotic in nature. I speculate at lower doses, it will only give one pleasant dreams.”

She could hear the trepidation in his voice when he spoke. 

It told her that he’ wasn’t sure if it would only give pleasant dreams. 

That insecurity made her uneasy.

“I think I will try to sleep on my own. I-” Hermione began, but it was a finger on her lips that stopped her from continuing.

Severus began to untangle from her, moving her leg that had wrapped around his hip. “You do not need to explain; it was only an offer. I will be back.”

Hermione released him as his hands beckoned him too. Part of her was worried that he’d been offended.

In the shadows of the room, his half-naked body was silhouetted by the fireplace's flickering lights. 

Hermione couldn’t help but think that he looked like Hades moving through the underworld. 

Hermione said nothing, still afraid that he was upset and leaving the room. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when he went into the loo instead of doing just that. 

Hermione sat up, fixing the blankets that had been disoriented with her nightmare and subsequent grappling of Severus.

Sinking into the covers again, she pulled the pillow under her head and waited.

As she lay there, something felt off. 

Closing her eyes, she could feel there was a magical energy in the room. 

Reaching for her wand, she flicked it, revealing a silvery shield around the bed and the thinnest patina of the same color over her skin.

The bathroom door opened, and Severus walked out, his eyes passing over the illuminated shield and then back to the bed. “Forgive me for not asking, but in light of recent events, I desired to be sure that if something were to disturb us, or you, I would be aware.”

“You put shielding charms on me?” Hermione questioned, flicking her wand and putting it back on the nightstand.

Severus stopped at the edge of the bed. The light and shadows playing against each other made his face hard to see.

“I did, I apologize.” His tone was apologetic as he sat on the bed.

Hermione felt a well of love overflow in her. 

He’d taken the time to make sure she was safe in addition to them. 

It would have not had such an effect on her if he’d just done the bed, but no, he’d put one directly on her. 

A bit of doubt fell away from her at that moment. 

Even with how close they were now, doubt was still something she dealt with. 

But Severus had just, in one small act, shown her more about how he felt than a million flowers could even do.

“Severus.” Hermione tried to articulate what it meant to her, but words were not coming to her.

His head seemed to bow sadly, and she saw him reach for his wand. “I know, I can remove them if you like.”

Hermione sat up quickly, reaching for his hand. “No! No. It - it means a lot to me. It- you care enough to keep me safe. Nobody- _Nobody_ has loved me that much to do that. Not even Harry. My safety was the afterthought, and if I didn’t put up shields, there weren’t any.”

She watched him place his wand back on the nightstand. He climbed into the bed with her, pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione hugged him back, just as intensely. 

For a moment, she could feel his heartbeat for how close they were, and she felt safe. Her skin rose with goosebumps as an intense feeling of completeness washed over her.

“There is something wrong with you, Granger.” Laughter seemed to dance through his words as he whispered them to her.

Her chest squeezed as the endearment was evident. “So I’ve been told many times.”

It was a long moment before he let her go, and Hermione did not even want to let him go then, but she relented her hold of him.

  
  
  


“Are you willing to try something else to sleep?” Severus asked her.

He pulled her into him as he lay down, wrapping his arms around her torso so that she was pressed against his chest. 

Something about the way they seemed to fit felt right, and she hardly had to shift to get comfortable.

“Depends on what it is.” Hermione finally answered him.

Anything that would have her out of sorts was off the table, she didn’t want for something to happen, and she could not protect Severus… or herself. 

Lips pressed to the skin of her forehead, and his voice was a quiet rumble. “Some minor occlumency.”

That was not the answer she expected. 

Her mind flashed back to Harry, describing the lessons with Severus, how they were akin to torture. 

She wasn’t sure that she would be able to handle the repeated invasions of her mind.

“I- I don’t know if I have the strength for that.” Hermione breathed across his neck, nervously. 

He chuckled, his nose running along her hairline. “How will you know if you do not try?”

The level of affection he was showing her at this moment was on the edge of overwhelming. 

S everus was cuddling with her, caressing her back and shoulders and showering her with soft kisses and touch. 

Every inch of her skin was active and buzzing with a warmth that bordered on overstimulation.

“Will it hurt me like it did Harry?” Hermione needed to know before she said yes.

Severus stopped his attentions to her, shifting so that he had his forehead against hers. “It will not. I did not use the most gentle techniques with him. For you, it will be soothing and pleasant.”

“And why did you not teach him that way?” 

If Severus could have taught Harry differently, then so many things could have been different with more painless techniques.

Severus made a pained sound before he spoke, his words coming with disappointment. “Because I was not the same man then, I did not think he had the patience or actual desire to learn. I abused my power over him and used those lessons as revenge for his father's sins. In addition to that, I do not love Harry Potter as I do you.”

His answer did not sit as well in her stomach as she would have liked. 

Hermione knew he was not that same man, but part of her was angry at that man, and part was glad that this man could admit these things to her.

Exhaling through her nose, Hermione knew that he would likely not like what she had to say. 

But if they were candid and honest about this, then she would have to voice it.

She touched his cheek, hoping to ease the statement with her touch. “I think you might, in your spirit of healing old wounds, do with Harry as you have done with Neville.”

She could see his eyes close, feel how his brows shifted against her forehead. 

Feeling it, rather than seeing it, was a sensation unique to itself.

“Perhaps, but at this precise moment, my only concern is your old wounds and your healing,” Severus explained quietly, resignation in his voice. “Do you wish me to try to teach you?”

Hermione pushed some of his hair back, nodding against him.“I agree to let you teach me, tell me what to do.”

“First, we will need to untangle. You will need to lie on your back.” Severus offered, releasing his hold on her.

  
  


Doing as she was instructed and guided to do by Severus’s hands, she laid on her back, her head supported by a pillow. 

Severus was on his side next to her, but not actually touching her. 

The space between then felt like a ravine, vast, and desolate. 

Yet, her skin was appreciative of the chance to settle without the stimulation.

  
  
  


“You will need to contain your emotions.” His voice was quiet, but it had all the intonation of his teaching voice.

Hermione nodded her head, her hands fidgeting against the cover. “I will do my best.”

“Close your eyes. I want you to breathe evenly, in through your nose, out through your mouth until you feel calm.” Severus instructed her.

Closing her eyes, she focused on doing just that. 

Her mind was racing with revelations that Severus could have taught Harry better, and her nightmare, and how much he actually cared. 

It was difficult for her to quiet the noise at first.

With each exhale, it got a little easier to settle the state of twisting emotions in her. 

She didn’t feel like her skin was jumpy anymore, and her fingers settled on to the fabric.

A few more deep breaths in and out. “I’m calm.”

Without the distraction of her anxieties, it felt like he was louder as he spoke to her.

“Very good. Now I want you to imagine that you are inside of a sphere.” His baritone wrapped around her.

“Like a bubble?” Hermione asked him, needing more of a point to focus on.

A humored sound escaped him. “Like a bubble, yes. All that you are is inside this bubble, your fears, your true thoughts. The bubble is calm and solid, like clear marble or ice.” 

She tried to visualize it.

Her thoughts would come through and break her concentration. 

It was if she was trying to wrestle with a devil’s snare, the more she fought, the more it fought back.

Still breathing deeply, she tried to stop fighting it, instead redirecting the thoughts as she imagined that she was encased in a blue globe of ice. 

Hermione felt like she was getting colder, her chest was still, but it wasn’t like death. 

It was almost like when she would step outside herself when staring off into space. 

Since it was a more natural step, Hermione let herself take a fall back. 

In doing so, it was like the bubble around her became a concrete wall around her.

Severus’s voice broke through the sensation. “Slowly focus on rising above the thoughts that are racing through your mind.”

“How?” Hermione could feel herself ask, but it was as if she were far away from herself.

“Focus on the calm in your chest, and with every inhale, imagine that you are raising a little higher,” Severus instructed her.

This required a lot more energy than she expected it would. 

It was like trying to steer something dragged down by a riptide or an anchor. 

Hermione could feel that she was sweating, but it was still distant to her.

Each in-breath brought her a little closer to what she felt like was the surface, and with each exhale, she felt like she was getting farther from herself.

All the while, Severus was still teaching her, his voice being the only sound save for her heartbeat.

“It may feel tight and light you are trying to swim upward. You simply need to focus on the stillness of the bubble. It is safety and protection, and the more you put into it, the stronger it will become.”

Hermione struggled as she tried to do as he instructed. 

She had no idea how long she was there, breathing and fighting her way through what seemed to be an endless onslaught of wayward thoughts. 

They took on the image of airplane memos from the Ministry. 

They would hit and chase her upward, piling on top of her to sink her down.

Eventually, through willpower, breathing, and Severus’s coaxing, she felt something break. 

Hermione felt like she was floating off the very bed, but that wasn’t the case, because if she thought about it, she could feel the blanket under her fingers and the pillow under her head.

The paper airplanes were swarming and trying to reach her below her, but they could not get her. 

A mantle of cool relief washed over her, ever ache and worry soothed out. 

It was like breathing fresh air after a lifetime of ash.

“Wow.” Her voice broke into a gasp.

Severus’s voice seemed to add a level of warmth to the comfort that she was feeling in this bubble's safety. “What do you feel?”

The words to describe how she felt seemed like they were fleeting and hallow. 

It was both vast and limited; it was as if she’d somehow frozen but was still touched by the warm sun. 

The walls around her felt as if she could see everything, but nothing could see her. 

She was protected by them -- _safe._

Hermione did her best with the emotionally limited vocabulary she had at the moment. “Comfortable. My chest is cool, like ice in the sun, but it feels -- safe.”

Hermione felt like she could stay this way forever. 

Looking around, two lines connected to her bubble. 

A dark heavy chain of black iron attached to a massive ship’s anchor that was now hovering over the surface. It must have been what she was fighting against. 

The other was a thin golden chain. It floated off into the distance, up, away from her. If she tried to reach for it, it would shift, just out of her reach. 

But it didn’t hold her down, it didn’t make her feel anything by curiosity and warmth.

Severus distracted her from her investigations with his voice. “Imagine the thoughts that you have just risen past are fish in a stream. Take the coolness in your chest and imagine that stream in winter, frozen over. The fish are alive, they are safe, but they are inaccessible.”

Hermione soon discovered that while the bubble had been hard to create, this was much harder. 

Imagining the paper airplanes as fish had been easy. 

A thought, and they were now brightly colored fish, all fighting for her attentions. 

But changing the surface to ice. 

It was like telling the sun to be blue. 

The sheer force of will she was trying to use was taxing, and it was hard to maintain breathing as she strained against it. 

Her mind seemed to resist her, making it infinitely harder. 

“This is harder than before.” Hermione groaned, feeling that her face was scrunching with the efforts. 

Severus offered her encouragement. “It rarely ever works the first time.”

“How do I know if I am doing it right?” Her voice sounded like she was whispering in another room.

“Allow me to look?”

A mild wash of panic, but Hermione could simply push it out of the bubble as she deemed it unnecessary. 

Severus was not going to hurt her, she knew it as truth, and her mind seemed to agree.

“Yes, please.” Hermione agreed.

The feeling of him shifting on the bed was disorienting for a moment. 

Hermione's body was moving but her mind felt still. 

Hermione could feel him nearer to him, the divide no longer a ravine of absence.

“Open your eyes, but hold the image of what you see in your mind.” Severus directed her. 

Hermione was worried that if she opened her eyes, that everything would be gone. 

But she wanted to know if she was able to do what he was asking. 

For all she knew, she was doing this totally wrong. 

It was courage that had her open her eyes, still visualizing what she was. 

Severus was leaning over her, his black eyes barely illuminated.

_ “Legilimens. _ ” 

Hermione saw his lips move, and then she was back in the bubble. 

It was an odd feeling to have in him her mind. Even when she let him look into her mind, it hadn’t felt this way before.

She could see him through the clarity of the ice around her. 

He was squatting on the surface of her thoughts, his hand pushing at the fragile layer of patchy frost that she had managed. 

It broke under his touch, and Hermione could feel as if someone had reached out and touched her brain.

_ Very impressive for a first try… _ Severus’s words were in her mind, not her ears, and he looked up at her with a proud smile.

And like that, his presence was gone. 

Hermione let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding as she closed her eyes once more, entirely focused on the visualization.

Severus did not move away from her; she could feel the warmth of his body against hers.

“Now that you are secluded from your thoughts, I want you to imagine that you are letting your body fall asleep.” He taught with his even and authoritative tone. 

Hermione sought more direction. “How.”

Severus began to speak slowly as he guided her. “Start with your feet. Imagine slowly that they are heavy and relaxing. Work your way up to your body... Over your legs... your pelvis.. your torso... Let your arms feel heavy. Your chest.. your neck.. and finally your face and your head.”

Hermine followed his instructions, marveling as she felt like everything was slowing down. 

She had control over it, and it was a sensation she had never experienced before. 

This was a whole different world of magic to Hermione.

Severus’s voice added to the relaxation factor, as his pitch never changing as he led her along this path. “Exhale al the energy you have buzzing against the weight of sleep and let the cool calm in your chest start to take you over with each inhale.”

It was if Hermione was weighed down, and she felt her mind starting ease. 

The edges of what she was visualizing were coming in toward her with a soft grey mist. 

It was relaxed and comfortable, like cashmere blankets against winters cold.

“Relax.” Was the last thing she heard Severus say before she succumbed to the sensation.

* * *

Even with Severus teaching her to Occulde, the nightmares would come to her every couple of nights. 

Hermione had started to draw herself from them, however, and could feel that she was getting better at what he was teaching her. 

It helped with the low lying dread that they both seemed to share. Severus was more on edge than she remembered during the war. 

Admittedly, she was not as close to him then as she was now, but it was evident that he was on high alert.

Days were spent teaching classes, and Hermione’s free time was spent reading about what she suspected they faced. She was putting together contingency plans for if something happened to Severus because of her. 

She never went anywhere without blood replenishing potions on hand and a bag of poppy seeds. 

Severus had told her that she was silly about the seeds, but it was the only superstition that was never addressed in any of the books as if it were hoped to be some forgotten lore or secret. 

Vampires were known in the muggle world to have an obsession with counting, and there were old wive’s tales about dropping poppy seeds to force them to count and give you a chance to get away. 

Foolish or not, Hermione would try whatever she could to make sure those nightmares stayed nightmares.

Most of her reading was done in her garden with Alexander. 

It had far more privacy than the library, but she also found that just talking to the headstone made her feel better. 

It gave her more of a connection to the son she’d lost than before when she was grieving in silence and pretending it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes, Severus would come with her, always asking for permission. 

Hermione liked how he would sit with her and not tease her for the occasion one-sided conversation that she would have in there. 

It was those quiet moments that she cherished. 

Severus was often working on something, so their time had become short but so much more potent.

At night, they would still curl up together, his voice lulling her to sleep either by reading or teaching her more of the art of Occulmency. 

He told her that she was doing well for a beginner, that most people would still be on the extraction stage. 

It didn’t seem surprising to him that she’d been able to do it the first night. 

To Hermione, his pride in her at her progress was precious and very important to her.

Days turned to weeks.

Severus and Hermione were still waiting for something to happen. 

Neither had left the castle for fear of the other being vulnerable and alone. 

It had been decided between them that no one else was to know the threat they faced. 

If someone was willing to use Molly’s grief to shape this plan, what wouldn’t they do? 

It was strange to Hermione to live this kind of double life, where she acted as if everything were normal and regular on the outside, but every potential threat had to be taken into account.

Severus seemed to sleep into it like a second skin. 

But it worried her. Severus was becoming more sallow, his skin looking paler, and he had moments of aggravation that reminded her too much like the Severus she knew as a child. 

He didn't seem to eat as much and was often impatient with his students. 

They’d even had a few arguments that resulted in hurt feelings and one night sleeping alone. 

Minerva had even asked Hermione if Severus had been sleeping. 

Hermione was able to assure her that he was because at night, he was in bed with her. 

She often fell asleep first, but when she woke up, Severus was there still. 

He often woke before her, so sometimes, he would stay in the living area, reading or writing.

The waiting was the most challenging part because Hermione knew that something was coming. 

It was like the end of every school year when everything seemed to be coming to a head. 

The irony was not lost on her that it was now firmly into March, and the school year only had a few months left. 

* * *

Hermione woke up with a start.

It wasn’t from a nightmare or some other dream.

The new moon was letting the stars shine brightly into her bed chambers.

Something was _wrong_ ; everything in her was screaming it. 

Her wand was in her hand before she even sat up and looked around. 

Severus was sitting up as well, in a very similar pose, wand ready.

“Did you feel that?” Hermione whispered.

He was getting out of the bed. “I did. Something is happening with the wards around the school. The castle is not pleased.”

Hermione clambered out of bed with the same haste. 

The air was electric against her skin like it had been many times before in her life.

Hermione looked at Severus and could tell that he was thinking the same thing.

**The Harkness’s were making their move.**

“We have to get out of the castle, there are too many children here, too many chances for casualties,” Severus explained. 

He was right; they had to ensure the safety of the school above all else.

“I have an idea.”

She had more than that, she had a plan, but he’d not been made privy to it yet. 

Crossing the bedroom, she pulled his head down to hers. 

Her whisper was quiet and private to only his ears because even the walls didn’t need to know what Hermione Granger had planned.

Severus smiled in the darkness.

“You _wicked_ witch.”

  
  
  
  
  



	49. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Severus was pleased with her progress.

He’d not told her the real reason that he’d decided that night to teach her.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to know. It was that if she did know, she would force herself to work much too hard at it and potentially induce failure.

Occlumency was one of the few things that could protect a witch or wizard from vampire compulsion.

Hermione’s natural aptitude at all things magically leaned in her favor, but this was a skill that not many could master.

Severus suspected that if he had tried to teach her before the trauma that she had suffered at her monstrous husband's hands, she would have been unable to learn it.

Occlumency required certain things of the mind.

It required the ability to detach and separate from yourself. 

He’d seen her do it before when she had panic attacks.

Her body and mind were not in the same place.

Upon his reading, he’d discover that there was a word for that specific state.

The muggles coined it as ' _disassociation'_.

You either had it in the wizarding world, or you didn’t; there was not a word needed. 

Her nightmare had revealed to him that while he was capable of withstanding most of the mind games that a vampire could try to play with him, that Hermione would be a mewling kitten against it.

He couldn’t protect her from it; any of the spells he would need to cast on her would take too much time and likely leave them vulnerable.

As he’d stood there in that bathroom, dealing with the struggle Severus faced at knowing that he could not protect her mind, he realized that she had the potential.

When he’d glimpsed into her mind at her first attempt, it was frightening how much she’d been able to do.

It took Severus more than a _week_ of steady practice before he could encapsulate himself and rise above his mind's noise.

She had done it successfully in _one_ try.

If it was his teaching or her skill, he wasn’t sure, but it was impressive.

In addition to that, she had managed a small shield over her thoughts.

Yes, he could break it with little effort, but the fact that it even existed was enough to tell him he’d made the right choice.

Now, she could put up much more resistance.

The ice was thicker and just a touch cloudy.

Severus could see her thoughts flickering and shifting under the ice, but it took him considerably more effort to break into her mind's waters.

It was a comfort at this time.

When the time came, and they would need to defend themselves, she would have this in her arsenal.

Severus was spending all of his waking moments preparing for whatever would come his way.

He’d dug into the Edgecombe background, finding that the mother and daughter had gone overnight to America without a word left.

They seemed to disappear from the record. 

Nothing connected them to the vampire world.

Severus was becoming quite acquainted with that world himself, however, as he had enlisted the assistance of one that was not bound to the Council of Nine. 

Sanguini had always had more human in him than a vampire, which is why he enjoyed Slughorn’s companionship.

Severus had never liked him, but he knew that Severus had to know what he was facing if he wanted to be ready.

To Sanguini, this was a rare treat; to be in the castle in the great Severus Snape's service.

Once Severus was assured that Hermione was deeply asleep, he would retreat to the private lab or the abandoned muggle studies class, depending on the matter at hand.

Severus had learned that his suspicions on one of his creations had been right.

In creating something that prevented panic and eased the attacks, he’d made something that could avoid the emotional drain of vampiric presence.

Sanguini didn’t have the same strength as Darcy Harkness, but it was enough to test potency. 

And when they were in the classrooms, well, Severus remembered that it had been many years since he’d fought for his life and did not enjoy the reminders of pain that his body gave him.

Sanguini’s biggest strength was that he was fast, and Severus, having settled into a relatively calm life for the past six years, did not possess that much speed.

He could overcome speed with brute force, but only for a short time. 

His body would ache throughout the day, nerves firing like he was being electrocuted.

But he had to prepare.

He slept for three to four hours most nights, crawling back into bed with Hermione just before dawn light at the latest.

Her sleeping form was a reminder of why he was doing it.

Severus was going to protect Hermione no matter what it cost him.

Sanguini had also offered Severus a rare bit of insight on the situation.

It was often against the rules to turn someone young.

Young minds turned into crazed vampires.

When he heard that the Harkness’s wife looked like she could have still graced Hogwarts' halls, he explained the rules and some of its exceptions.

If the human is valuable in some way, a special request is granted, but the sire had full responsibility for the turned one's actions.

If there was some great use for them and the human was dying with no chance of recovery, it was _possible_.

His partnership with Sanguini had a price.

Severus paid that price in his knowledge of the dark arts.

Sanguini had given him an unbreakable vow, which fortunately still applied to vampire kind with magical blood, such as the vampire in question, that he would never use the knowledge to assist in another rising of a dark lord, or to become such himself.

That his knowledge would never again be used to try to subjugate the world. 

Severus’s days were will with teaching and meetings and trying to pick up the slack that he had left with Minerva, and his nights were brewing, teaching, or studying with Sanguini.

His only moments of peace were when he was with Hermione.

And even then, the spikes of pain and high intensity of his fear for her would spark a confrontation.

He would argue with her because she would be so insistent that he rest and relax, without understanding that it was folly.

If he could not protect her, then he was useless.

He would not stand by when there was a threat like this and leave her fate in others' hands.

Severus had learned that lesson with Lily.

_If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself_.

Only once did he go over the line.

He screamed at Hermione, and she actually took a fearful step back.

At that moment, he banished himself from her presence.

The fear in her eyes had been too much, and he could not cope with the idea that he was the one who caused it.

It had taken a night in a cold bed to make him see that he was the one in the wrong. 

Severus had no idea why she accepted his apology, but he kept his word, doing his best to check his temper with her.

He wasn’t even sure why he was so angry. It could have been pain that was near-constant in his left shoulder.

Or the fatigue that had him drinking Pepper-Up potions as if they were the elixir of life.

But he was more confident that it was the fact that beyond those gates, two wolves paced, waiting for him to slip. 

He had to be vigilant, he had to be ready.

Through all this, he still desired to be with Hermione every moment he could spare.

While the time was short, he made sure that she was happy and not sliding back into her fears and the darkness of what she’d experienced.

He worried about her becoming unstable amid this pressure that was around them.

Severus was afraid of that happening as much as he was fearful of what could happen if she was hurt.

He feared those she loved being used against her as well.

While it was Hermione who had decided that they needed to keep this threat to themselves, he wholeheartedly agreed.

If they would torment a grieving mother with the hope of her son’s ghost, what was out of the range of possibility.

That meant that they only had each other to speak to about it as well. 

When he would find her in Alexander’s Garden, talking to the headstone about the developments in her research, he would listen quietly.

It still felt like it was not his place to be there, but Hermione would rest her head on his shoulder or squeeze his hand, and for a moment, it was okay.

He was appreciative of her brilliant mind; he knew that all the books she was reading were in the same pursuit as his actions. 

Her methods were not like his, but he had to admit, he adored that she never went anywhere without a bag of poppy seeds.

Her insistence that vampires were obsessive counters was very muggle of her, but it made her feel safe, which was essential to him.

She also had started wearing a bandolier on her hip, where he noticed unbreakable vials with potions in them.

He’d inspected them one night and found that they were blood replenishment and coagulant potions.

He hoped he never needed to use them, but was glad that she took this threat as seriously as he did.

He could tell that waiting for it to happen was not easy for her.

It wasn’t easy for him either, because unlike before, when he was intimately aware of both sides' going on’s, he was blind and deaf to the enemy's machinations.

Sanguini had said that it was rather bold of Harkness to confront him in such a way, and knowing that Severus did not bow to him would have either caused him to back off or to anger and accelerate what they were planning.

Vampires like to play long cons; they were the sort who had the time to wait out their enemy.

Sanguini was convinced that if they were acting with haste, then there was some kind of deadline or order to be filled.

Since Sanguini chooses to live among humans, he was not privy to anything but the base knowledge of the Councils workings.

He knew little more than the Ministry on it, so he could not find out if there was some manner of the contract out on Hermione.

Doing so would bring suspicion on him, and he was not willing to put his neck on the line for this.

But he had heard that no one was to get in Harkness’s way. Any vampire under the Council’s rule who did was considered fair play. 

They were in the lab together tonight, working on improving the elixir format of Panic Puffs.

Sanguini was on the other side of the cauldron, watching with interest.

The pale man cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know, Master Snape, that while I have no allegiance to the Council or it’s followers that I will _not_ get into a confrontation with Darcy on your behalf.”

“Nor would I ask you to,” Severus confirmed, monitoring the brew carefully. It had never been a part of the agreement that Sanguini should interfere in the coming storm.

It wasn’t his place or his fight.

Sanguini clapped his hands softly. “ _Splendid_ that we are on the same page.”

Severus glanced up at the man, an eyebrow reminding him that anything but calm speaking could ruin the brew.

“And if he asks you to stop aiding me?” Severus quired, adding a measure of crushed dried strawberry.

There was no hesitation from Sanguini as he sighed. “Then, I will stop. While I do not follow the Council, no one would blink if an outside like me simply **disappeared**.”

There was a lot of truth to that in any society.

Those who were not aligned with the side in power were not much looked for or thought about.

“I can respect that.” Severus nodded, stirring twice counterclockwise in a slow manner.

Sanguini did not stop there. “However, should he ask me to attack you, I will decline the offer.”

Severus appreciated that gift, as there was no reason for Sanguini to go against another vampire for him or Hermione.

It would not affect Slughorn, Sanguini’s actual friend, and it would be no issue for him to get to either of them. 

“What does that mean for you?” Severus was curious if the man was putting himself in danger for taking his stand on things.

Sanguini shrugged, crossing his arms over his striped suit thoughtfully. “That I have to leave the country for a while, a few _hundred_ years until things cool down.”

“I see.” He sounded disappointed that it would effectively destroy Sanguini’s life.

All his current companions were mortal; he’d be gone and isolated.

Not a fair trade at all in Severus’s mind.

Sanguini seemed to sense what Severus meant with his tone. “I knew this when I agreed to help you.”

“And yet you still did.” The skepticism of the man’s sanity was apparent in Severus’s tone.

Sanguini laughed, and the brew made a disturbing sound to which Severus glared at him.

He covered his mouth and took a moment to compose himself. “I have my reasons. Others do not think like your Hermione. Humans like her give me _hope_.”

“Hope? Hope of what.” Severus stirred the brew back into submission, the color shifting to the right color.

The vampire smiled, and it was one of the only ways that Severus knew he was one.

His canines were pointed, but his fangs were retracted.

“Hope in the essence of Humanity. And that one day, unity and peace might not just be words we put over doors with _empty_ promises.”

“Your humanity must be _appalling_ to your peers.” Severus mused.

Sanguini had to stifle another laugh. “Dreadfully so. They complain that I am the _life_ of the party.”

Fortunately, the elixir was done, so his companion's mirth did not cause him to have to start over. “I can only imagine. Now, I say we are done this evening.”

Sanguini nodded, gathering his belongings. “Agreed, you look like you could use some sleep. You look more dead than I am.”

Severus snorted derisively. “I will as soon as this elixir is bottled. Again, my thanks for your assistance.”

He was answered with a deep bow from Sanguini before his left. “Anytime, Master Snape. I shall not see you tomorrow, as I have plans I cannot rearrange.”

The door closed, and Severus began to arrange the vials, preparing them for the brew of what George Weasley was thinking of calling “Eirene’s Kiss.”

Hopefully, this would be the final version as he had not had any dizziness in using it against Sanguini’s compulsion.

It did not take him long to finish the work of bottling.

His body ached the whole way to his rooms.

He could barely keep his eyes open as he struggled through his shower, which brought him slight relief from the pain.

Once he made it to her rooms, the bed looked like heaven.

Hermione was sleeping, her hand draped across his side of the bed.

He grasped it, giving her a gentle squeeze as he sat on the bed.

He’d learned that if he did something that would make her mind recognize him, he was less likely to be kicked by force by her from the bed. 

Hermione’s hand grasped for him when he let it go, and that was the sign that he could crawl into the bed with her.

Slipping under the covers, he slowly tucked himself around her.

They had progressed to him sleeping shirtless and under the same blanket.

It was always at her insistence.

Severus made no moves other than the ones she desires. 

Fighting against her mane, he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

She smiled in her sleep at him, and warm comfort sunk into his chest.

Resting his head on the pillow, he went to sleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

* * *

Severus had decided that without Sanguini to work with that, he would treat this one night a week to attempt a full night of sleep.

It was only a few hours into that rest when he came to consciousness.

Something had happened to the castle, something more intense, and he felt the castle growl in displeasure.

Something was attempting to bypass the wards.

Severus drew his wand sitting up, and Hermione surprisingly was doing the same as him.

Severus knew that the castle was no longer connected to her, but if the castle decided that she needed to be involved, it would have tried to reach her.

Hermione looked at him, her voice in a hushed whisper. “Did you feel that?” 

The castle was pushing back against something now, and Severus knew that he needed to find out what.

He climbed out of bed, reaching for his clothing. “I did. Something is happening with the wards around the school. The castle is not pleased.”

Hermione was following his lead or had the same idea as him.

Severus looked to her for an answer, and he knew then that she was aware of what was happening. Tonight was the night that the vampire came calling for her.

“We have to get out of the castle, there are too many children here, too many chances for casualties,” Severus could not bear a repeat of the war.

No more innocent blood needed to wash over the stones of Hogwarts.

The testing of the wards seemed to stop, and Severus felt the castle almost bristle with energy.

If it were a being, it would be a porcupine, its quills out to prevent something from biting it without pain.

“I have an idea.” He heard Hermione whisper as she gathered her things.

He was pulling on his shirt as she crossed the room to him.

Her lips were against his ears as she laid out a very well thought out plan.

It was risky, but it aligned well with his own ideas.

And he couldn’t help but grin at the sheer Slytherinness of its nature.

“You _wicked_ woman.” He purred, grinning like the cat who had the canary.

It was time for the hunters to be hunted.


	50. Tenebris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Marietta's.

_**Finally.** _

It was at her fingertips.

Everything she’d done had been to get to this point. 

Yes, there were roadblocks along the way, but no matter, it was the destination and not the trip, that was the critical part.

It’s been far easier to subdue them.

Almost too easy, but based on what she’d been able to extract from the unbound one, the old man was not in his best fighting form.

She waited for them to come to consciousness; these few moments were nothing to the ten years she’d waited before. 

She looked at the hourglass tattooed on her wrist.

The violet sand steadily counted down the time. T

he bottom was almost full, and there was very little left at the top. But it was enough.

_She still had time._

“Mari, I got here as soon as I could. It took Cormac longer than expected to smuggle me out.” Maria broke the pleasing silence that Marietta was sitting in.

She narrowed her eyes at her. “As you can see, we hardly needed your help. I am _so_ disappointed in you.”

Maria Anadora crossed her arms, frowning. “Don’t be like that. It- things got out of hand. I didn’t expect they would reconcile that quickly.”

Marietta stood now, her nose flaring as she took in the smell of fear that Maria was putting off.

Her heart was beating rapidly. “Why was she even allowed to be around him in the first place. She should have been dead more than _two years ago!_ ”

Reta was furious about that fact.

She was never supposed to have come back to this blasted country, and she was not supposed to have to get her hands dirty.

The old adage was true. 

_If you wanted it done right, do it yourself._

“I- Mari- come on, don’t be mad; it’s me, Maria, your best friend.” The woman said, gesturing openly.

Reta could tell that she was on edge.

She had every reason to be; she knew the price of failure more than anyone else.

Reta could not help but laugh blithely in her face.

“Best friends don’t go against the plan, best friends do not play house while someone else is busy tending to allies that they should have already been done with.”

“I got carried away. It was - you weren’t here.” Maria tried to excuse her behavior.

Reta drew close to her, fangs slipping forward in a threat. “No. I was not, I was at home, seeing to our affairs, training, researching and slaving away at the Council, groveling and maintaining good favor when my second seemed to be failing me.”

When she should have been enjoying what she was gifted, she had to make sure that they did not lose favor and suddenly become a threat to the Council.

Maria had no idea who much she had nearly ruined everything by falling for the stupid redhead boy.

Maria took a step back from Reta with hands up in surrender, but Reta followed her smirking.

“Look - I’m sorry.” She pleaded.

“No, not yet. You will be. When I am done with this cleanup, you will be offering yourself before the Council for your punishment for failure.” Reta could not hide her delight.

It was her companions turn to suffer the indignity of groveling and prostration.

Reta could smell the fear as if it were a bouquet of flowers.

She watched as the woman’s brown eyes grew wide, and her pulse was thrumming.

The hunger awoke in her, but Marietta did not desire a feast of Maria.

No, her appetite would be sated with the blood of her enemy tonight.

  
  


Anadora started crying, and Reta could not help but roll her eyes.

“Mari- no. I- I lost my child, isn’t that punishment enough.” The woman sobbed, crumpling to her knees.

Reta barked with laughter. “That was not a child, that was a _mistake_ because you fell in love with the person you were supposed to be handling. I thought you could handle it. He was weak and easy to control. But that was the _problem_. It went to your head. You got too much joy out of that power. I won’t make the same mistake next time, if you live, you will not be given such important roles.”

It was a job that a child should have been able to do.

Marietta had given her all the tools she needed, all the power she needed.

She funneled energy into those tattoos so that Maria would not even have to work to maintain his submission.

And she still couldn’t get the job done.

Anger seethed in Reta, her teeth bared at Maria.

All this crying did was confirm that she was too weak and that Reta had made a poor choice in letting her be so instrumental to the plan.

It would have been easier if she had sent someone else or have come on her own.

“Mari - I’m sorry. Don’t be mad like this, you still get what you want, and you get the bonus of taking out Snape.” 

The high pitch of the squealing pleas of the woman got under her skin.

“What I wanted was this to be done on schedule and not at the very _last_ minute. I also didn’t want to have to involve Snape. Fortunately for you, he wasn't strong enough to harm my husband. If Darcy had gotten hurt because of your failure, you would be _begging_ me to send you to the Council.” Reta threatened.

Maria was not genuinely worth her energy at the time.

She turned back to her seat, letting the woman kneeling on the concrete floor cry.

However, she noticed that she’d stopped crying. 

“On schedule, we still have two years?” Maria offered. Reta watched her wipe her face and get to her feet.

“I do not appreciate your crocodile tears. No, your failure brought awareness to _our_ involvement. The timetable and the stakes were _shifted_.” Reta growled, her claws elongating and digging into the wooden arm of her chair.

So much of the sand had been taken from her on that night.

So much time stolen over the failings of her follower.

It was now that the woman gasped, coming to Reta’s side as if she had cared about the consequences of her actions.

Maria’s hands fell on Reta’s arm, and she looked at her with disgust.

“Oh, no. What do they want from you _now._ ” Anadora whispered fearfully.

She sneered vindictively. “You already paid for it. Tenebris is stronger because of the life you _gave_ up to him. An unborn is like a delicacy to them.”

Reta made sure to glance over Maria’s flatter stomach. 

Maria wrapped her arms around herself, taking a step back.

The horror on her face made Reta smile more.

Her suffering was an antipasto to the main event of the evening.

“You bartered with- with my son’s _life_ ,” Anadora growled accusingly.

Reta glared at the audacity of the question. “You should be lucky I did not barter with _yours_!”

“Oh my gods, what happened to you? This is not the Mari I know. This was just supposed to be to get even with Granger. Then we could go on, get out of the debt to the Council, and _live our lives_.” Maria asked.

Reta closed her eyes for a moment, pushing away the memories and feelings.

Maria was right; there had been a plan to go off and live as they wished once this was done.

They would be free of their debts, Marietta would have her heart’s desire and Marietta, her freedom.

The sting of betrayal tainted it.

Marietta stayed in the Council hall while Maria was supposed to exact revenge and then return.

Instead, she went about her life as if she’d already attained her freedom.

“You were living your life just fine _without me_ for the last _four_ years.” Reta hissed, suppressing any positive feeling she had toward Maria.

_Maria was a human, she was temporary, she was a tool that had failed in doing its job..._ Marietta reminded herself. 

_You did not let the tool hurt your feelings; you simply got a new tool._

“I was in cover. Hermione wasn’t easy to break. If it wasn’t for us putting a damper on her, she’d likely have taken more years to crumble.” Maria began to sputter in her defense. 

It was apparent she was trying to evoke pity or mercy where there was none to be had.

Reta sighed. “I hear excuses. How do I feel about _excuses_?”

  
  


It shut her up quickly. Marietta had no patience for those who made excuses instead of owning up to their actions.

It came from having the inexcusable done to her and then the world deciding that the justification offered was good enough for them.

It was relatively silent again—only the steady heartbeats of her slumbering victims and Maria’s fearful fluttering.

“Fine. What now.” Maria interrupted the silence once more. 

Reta had half a mind to put her under a silencing charm. “Now, we _wait_. They should rouse soon, Darcy only did minimal damage per my request..”

“And then?” Maria asked, taking a seat on the floor to Reta’s right.

It was as if nothing had changed, as if they had not just had a fight, and Reta would throw her to the wolves.

_Maria was a stupid human._

“Why should I let you into _any_ of my plans after what you’ve done.” Reta hissed, looking at the bedraggled captives.

Granger was in the restraints made just for her, lines of violet wrapping through the cold iron.

Snape was next to her, but just out of reach for when they woke.

It would exact more sweet agony that way.

His bonds were not custom, as she did not have the chance to do so.

It didn’t matter, Darcy had the other room ready for what he wanted to do to the wizard.

It was a fair trade; she got Granger to torment as she wished, and he got to deal with the disrespect he’d been given in the market.

“Because I’m _still_ here, even though you just told me that you paid my son’s soul to a soulless beast. Because you know that with a clear head, I **can** do the job.” Maria offered, looking up from her position on the floor.

Reta turned from her quarry and leaned toward Maria. “ _Is_ your head clear? Have you let go of the feelings you have for the boy.”

“Yes,” Maria said, making and keeping eye contact.

“Prove it.” Reta hissed, pushing her way violently into Maria’s mind.

Emotions darted back and forth, and Reta dug, clawing for what she wanted.

Maria was putting up a good show, but she could see the fractured state of her in her mind.

There was still longing for the man that she’d ‘fallen in love with’ and grief for the child lost.

Even with Reta’s abusive treatment of her mind, Maria did not fight her back; instead, submitting it to her power.

It was a show of loyalty, and even Reta could tell that the plan was still prevalent in her thoughts.

Perhaps, she might yet have some uses to her.

  
  
  


Reta withdrew, leaving Maria shaking and holding her head.

“You cannot lie to me, Maria. However, I find I may enjoy your witness to how this should be done.” Reta offered, patting Maria on the head.

“Thank you, Mari.” It was a strained whisper, and Reta took some satisfaction from it.

She flicked her hand toward the far wall, pointing a delicate finger toward it. “You will wait over there. You are _not_ to speak unless _I_ speak to you when they awaken. Do not address _them_.”

Maria got to her feet, shuffling toward the corner she was designated. “How long until -”

Marietta cur her off. “Darcy was able to subdue them. It will only be a few moments.”

“And then?”

She was getting tired of the incessant questioning of her second.

She fixed her with a glare, her head tilted to the side to indicate that she was not pleased. “I do what you could _not_ . Darcy has a special request on Snape, and I will _finally_ get to watch the light leave her eyes as she loses _everything_.”

“I could have. With more time.” Maria pouted, arms crossed.

Reta rolled her eyes before tossing two wands at the woman. “Four years was more enough. I would not send you out to kill a rabbit, much less her at this point. Take their wands. _Do not let them go_ . If you do, I might change my mind about _letting_ the Council dole out your punishment.”

“I understand,” Maria said, catching them and tucking them into her clothing.

With a final nod, she turned back to the special guests of this main event. “Good. Now, be quiet so that I can savor this.”

  
  
  


It was Granger that was the first to start rousing. She made a struggled sound, looking around blearily.

Marietta said nothing, just watching her eyes flicker around with confusion.

Hermione caught a glance of her lover and began to rattle against her restraints, trying to reach him. “He- Severus! _Severus_ , wake up!” 

“Give him time.” Reta cooed from her perch.

Hermione finally saw her. “You- what did you do to him.”

She leaned forward with a smile. “The same as you, Snape will rouse, fear not, you’ll get to see him alive _one last time_.”

As if on cue, the man began to shift and move, breathing quickening. “Ugh- what - Se- What is the meaning of this? Hermione, are you harmed?” 

Reta watched as the two of them tried to get to each other against their restraints.

“Isn’t this lovely.” She purred before calling out to her husband. “Darcy, darling, your supper is awake.”

“You will **not** touch her.” Severus Snape snarled, attempting to yank against the metal around his wrists.

Marietta laughed at the effort, her face broke into a grin. “He’s not here for her, he’s here for you, _Professor_ . You made a grievous mistake in your disrespect. And he _even_ offered you a chance to live. This will be **exciting**.”

Granger rattled at her restraints, her voice high and fearful.“No, no! I don’t _care_ what you do to me, just leave him _alone_.”

She could feel him enter the room like a black sun in neverending night.

She turned her head as her husband entered the room in his shirtsleeves.

Darcy Harkness, even though they'd been married for years now, still made her want him when he walked into a room.

“Darling, did you call me?” He asked, coming to stand by her seat. 

Reta lifted her chin, smiling at him with all the warmth she possessed in her being. “You may take him now. I only wanted her to know whose screams it would be that she was hearing.”

Darcy leaned down, capturing her lips.

The edge of his fangs slipped over her lip, eliciting a tendril of desire in her.

He always knew how to do that to her.

“You are the best of women and the best of wives, my _sweet_ Reta.” He hummed, and the heat in his eyes told her that he would need more than one hunger sated tonight. 

She pressed on his chest softly, her other hand offering him her wrist so that he could see that the needed to make haste. “Now is not the time. Later, when we have all the time we need, you can seduce me properly.”

“Hmm, yes.” Darcy kissed her wrist tenderly before letting her go. 

Reta watched as he shifted from her doting husband to the monster she loved.

It was in the way his shoulders moved, how his chin rose.

The feral look in his eyes could bring her to her knees.

  
  
  


Snape was resisting as Darcy snatched the man up and dragged him by his restraints.

It was amusing watching the fight that he was putting up.

Darcy was obviously stronger than him, and without his wand, he was pretty useless.

It made her lose a lot of respect for the man.

The fear that Hermione was putting off was amazingly heady.

It was visceral, and it made her fingers twitch with the desire of the hunt.

“No! No! Leave _him_.” Hermione screamed, kicking, and lunging against the restraint.

They shared an intense glance, and Reta watched it unfold with anticipation.

“Hermione.” The man called, a look of desperation on his face.

She pulled against the stone wall as if she could force herself to him. “Severus.”

“If you get a chance to run, then run!” Snape demanded.

Darcy seemed to see that Reta enjoyed this, so he slowed down his drag of the man.

Granger’s voice was begging, pleading. “Severus, please.”

“ _Promise_ me.” He grit out, trying to snatch from her husband.

Reta was delighted when she saw that Granger’s face harden. “I promise _nothing_.”

Snape reared his head at her. “Don’t be a _hero_ fool girl,”

Darcy dragged him to the other room, a door barely closing.

  
  
  


Reta burst into laughter, a cold, cruel cackle as she looked at the horror on Granger’s face.

Perhaps she should have done this herself merely for this.

Granger had some fight in her still.

It would be beautiful to destroy it.

“Aw, your _last_ words won’t _even_ be I love you. How decadent.” Reta cooed, crossing her leg over the other.

Granger turned her gaze to her. “Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?”

Marietta rolled her eyes, leaning back into the chair as she flexed her fingers. “Do you _really_ want me to do an entire bad guy monologue? Do you know how _tedious_ that is?”

The woman was shaking against the chains. “I don’t understand. The curse _wasn’t_ that bad, it was only to protect everyone, and you **knew** there would be consequences when you signed the paper.”

Of course, she thought this was about a curse.

Of course, she didn’t know what she had done; she was too busy focusing on herself and not the far-reaching effects of her actions.

How she left destruction in her wake.

“You still think this is about that? Some bright witch you are. What do you think, Maria, should I tell her.” Reta asked, looking to her companion.

Maria smiled wickedly, and for a moment, it felt like old times. “Oh yes, she was inconsolable when Ron and I did it.”

Reta looked at her wrist.

There was still enough time.

And it would be good to air out her grievances for a final time.

Granger did not deserve to go to the grave ignorant of her sins.

“I have enough time for this. Besides, your soulmates screaming might add some ambiance to the tale.”

From the other room, Marietta could hear the scuffling like a fight was going on.

It would do Darcy some good to have a meal that fought back.

He needed it every once in a while.

“Why do you call him that?” Granger asked, her head tilted to the side.

Reta blinked at her, trying to understand if she was dumb on purpose.

“Are you serious? You two haven’t.” I occurred the Reta that they had not discovered the bound. “Oh, my word. You’ve not consummated your bond. Oh, this is _perfect_ —you little idiot. Severus Snape is, well, about to be was, your soulmate. That’s part of the whole issue. Marius will be so **excited** when he hears that we were successful in this.”

Granger did not seem to believe her. “Soulmates are primarily fables, you know that. The actual cases are so rare that it’s _impossible_ to prove it even exists or if they did something else to bind them together.”

Of course, Granger had to ruin everything. “I’m _not_ going to debate with my dinner. Do you want to know why I am doing this or not?”

“I want to know.” Hemione’s eyes hardened again.

“Very well.” Reta smile, settling into her chair. “You see, this is not just about me. It was, in the beginning. But now, it’s something different. Did you ever even wonder what happened to me after what your little curse did?”

“It was acne, not the end of the world.” Hermione snarled.

There was a loud crash in the room behind them and man’s pained grunt.

Darcy was playing with his food.

It made her smile before her face fell into a scowl at Granger.

“Of course, you saw it that way. You destroyed my whole life and simply thought it away with ‘it was just acne.’ My father disowned me. When my mother would not let him, he cut us both out of the family. My mother lost her job. We had nothing, and no one would help us. We were either too cozy with Dumbledore’s army for the purebloods, or betrayers to those loyal to you. We had a chance to try to start over in another country. We took it because there was nothing left for us here. You were a triumphant heroine, and I was the great betrayer. Very few friends would even accept my owls.”

Marietta swallowed, not expecting to feel so much pain as this all came back to light. But the pain also reminded her that this was the right thing to do. That there had to be payment exacted for what she’d been through.

Granger sat there quietly, glaring at her. Reta couldn’t wait to wipe that look off her face.

“Do you know what awaited us in America? Squalor. My mother’s reputation was so destroyed that she could not find work. It was nothing but unending hunger and the cold world. All I could think about was how you were getting to go on, that you could still fail so perfectly that you landed on your feet. When I could get ahold of some news, or a friend would return my owls, you were still on top of the world: you, a mudblood who barely deserved to grace Hogwarts' hallowed halls. I am a pureblood; I am the product years of careful marriages and treaties for my family's best. And because of you, it didn’t mean a damn thing.” Reta was shaking with her anger now, as it blended with the unhappiness this brought forth in her.

Granger interrupted her. “I didn’t ruin your mother's reputation, Umbridge did that.”

“You will not speak until I am done, or I speak to you.” Reta hissed, leaning forward with her fangs exposed.

“And if I do.” Granger challenged.

The unmistakable sound of Snape painfully cursing echoed into the room.

Reta looked back with a smile toward the cracked door. “You will die before he does.”

Granger seemed to cow at that, slinking against her confines.

“The day after I turned 17, we were exposed to Dragon Pox. It was a rare outbreak in slums. My mother had it worse than I did. We spent two weeks in a drainage pipe, trying to get better. Do you know what Dragon Pox feels like? Everything itches and burns, and even the air you breathe hurts. No water can slake your thirst, or break your fever.”

Marietta felt the sorrow rising in her chest.

“After two weeks, my mother died. She died in my arms, glaring at me. Do you know what her last words were? ‘This is all your fault. I wish you’d never been born.’ And then she ceased to be. I was alone with nothing and dying. All I could think about was how unfair it all was. How had you managed so many times to come out on top when I deserved to. I deserved it, not you. I was a Ravenclaw, I was smarter than you, I was better than you, but you still came out on top!”

A shriek of pain punctuated her pause.

“It was Maria who found me nearly dead next to the days-old corpse of my mother. I couldn’t even lift my head. She was a servant of my husband’s, and she called to him. All I remember was the face of this demon, with a saint’s smile. He asked if I had any unfinished business. I told him all I wanted was revenge. He offered me a chance, but it would come at a price. The price was not my life, as it was ebbing away by the second. No, it was my very soul. But it was a chance, and I would not let you beat me.”

The noise in the other room went quiet.

Reta smirked.

It took him longer than she thought to subdue the old Professor.

“Darcy saved me, he and Maria nursed me back to health, and I grew into my power. It was the most exciting thing. I had power now that you could only dream of. I had the chance to seek revenge. And I was going to make sure you suffered as I have suffered.”

Marietta felt a strang sting in her chest and her head snapped toward the door. Turning, she looked to Maria, who had the same confused expression.

“Check on them.” She ordered, and the woman did as she asked.

It was likely that the man had poisoned his blood and that Darcy would have a bit of a stomach ache.

“Where was I. Ah yes, the plan. You see, Maria and I were just going to come to kill you. But then, we thought about it. Killing you would be a mercy. Even if we dragged it out over the years, it would still not be good enough. No, you are the kind of person who still holds out hope until the last minute. That is what I wanted to take from you. What I will take from you. When my husband drags the corpse of your lover out here, you will know that there is no one coming to save you.”

Reta noticed that Granger was not looking at her, but the door.

She snapped her fingers, garnering her attention with a jolt through the cuffs. “I am not telling this story for my benefit.”

Granger looked back at her, glaring.

She was surprisingly calm, considering the fact that it was inevitable that she was going to die and that Snape had just died.

Reta suspected that she might be trying to plan a way out.

That would be folly.

“After the battle, I was hoping you would fall into obscurity. But then, one of the seers started spouting your name in court. You were a part of reckoning that we did not need to happen. You and your soulmate would change the world forever. We started making plans to keep you separate. Molly Weasley was the obvious choice for this ploy.”

“How did you know what you knew about Fred?” Granger interrupted.

Reta wrinkled her nose at her.“I will excuse this insolence, only once. How many bats live at the burrow?”

Granger blinked, looking for an answer it seemed. There was hesitance in her voice.“There are some in the attic.” 

“Not all of them were bats. One of our informants is a bat animagus. He’d been at the burrow even when it was set on fire. Not happy about it, but he was there. He knew everything we needed to say, and he made sure that things happened to make what we were telling her the truth. She was easier to manipulate than a child. Grief is such a divine emotion. Even the most well-meaning can be turned astray with it.”

“So, you forced me to marry Ron because of some prophecy?”

“Not just some prophecy, many. And under the orders of the 7th lord, you were never to procreate. We had a small implosion when it was found that you were with child. But Maria saw to fixing that.”

The anger that spread over Granger's face was beautiful.

She wished she could keep it forever to remember this moment.

“And then you made it easier for me to get more power. You decided that of all the creatures you were going to liberate, it was _house-elves_ ? And _goblins_ ? The Council has been spending decades trying to be recognized as a governing body of our species, and you ignored them as if they were _nothing_ . If you’d offered your help to them and used your power to aid them, they would have _stopped_ me. Instead, you slighted them, and they sang my praise. Because after all, I had already been plotting revenge against you. It as if you delivered your life right into my hands.”

Reta stood now, sniffing the air.

There was blood, a lot of it.

It mingled with the smell of her husband and Maria.

Perhaps she was helping him clean up the mess.

The pain in her chest was gone, so it was likely a fluke.

“I was offered a way to pay my debt, and if I choose, be free of the Council. My soul for yours. That was the price the Council asked of me. If I could get your soul and your magic to them, my debt would be paid, and my soul would be mine again. I could stay as a Lady of the court, or be a free vampire under its rule. As it was, I was a seneschal for Darcy, caring for his needs and affairs.”

She leaned on the back of the chair; Granger looked too comfortable. She hissed, focusing on the restraints' power and sent a wave of lightning over her skin.

“There, now I have your attention. When I signed the bargain, the Council granted me temporary freedom. I would be able to leave the court and do as I needed to exact revenge. All the tools are available at my disposal. And they let Darcy marry me. Not only had you secured your own doom, but you brought me my happiness.”

There was another loud bang, and she heard Maria cursing as if she had hit her foot or something. 

_Clumsy girl._

“Now, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. We were only going to have your husband kill you. He was easy to trap, and once he was marked as hers, he would have done anything she asked. Provided he was drunk enough. Alcohol boosted his aggression. But it seemed that my right hand fell in an entanglement with him. And you proved harder to break than we thought. So I sent Maria the tools to bend you so that you could break. I’m surprised that the Tenebris cage was functional on you at all. You did figure it out, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, her head lulling to the side from the shock.

Reta walked forward and caught her chin in her hands. “A Tenebris is an emotional vampire. It is what those who can’t obey become. Formless and unending, they feed on both energy and emotions. I was gifted with my Tenebris as a wedding gift. The fact that they managed to put a viable cage on you was the only right thing that Maria did.”

Granger glared at her, trying to snatch her chin away. “Why is that.”

“Because those bonds you have on your wrist are made to contain someone tainted by Tenebris. You cannot open them. Tenebris still has his hold on you. It is not as strong, but he was able to anchor in your guilt over your son. Any time I want, I can punish you with him. And when I am ready, he will take your soul, and I will get mine back.” Reta said, her fingers dancing over the metal. She sent a surge of more pain out to her captive. 

Granger writhed and grit her teeth.

Marietta pushed it until she forced a scream from her.

It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

Retaking her seat, she waited until Granger could catch her breath. 

“So, let me get this right. You want me dead, because you ratted out the DA, suffered consequences of your own actions, had Umbridge ruin your mother's life, she died, and now because I decided to help house-elves and goblins, the _whole_ vampire nation wants me dead.” Granger demanded breathlessly.

“Not the whole nation. Else you’d be dead already. This is a _special_ contract. If Maria had failed more spectacularly than she did, or we ran out of time, it would have been the last of it. You _are_ mortal after all, don’t think _too_ highly of yourself. You only slighted us.” Marietta crossed her arms, laughing at the notions that Granger thought she was that important. 

No other vampires would be allowed to contract on Granger.

That was the agreement in the special decree.

Her revenge was her’s alone.

Lose or Win, it was all on her shoulders and in her power to do.

  
  


“So, if you fail, then I don’t have anything to worry about?” Granger posited, head tilting to the side.

Reta sent more pain as punishment. “Yes, but how _precisely_ do you expect me to fail. Your lover is _dead_ , you are trapped in a device you cannot _escape_ that will suck your very soul out, and I’m untouchable. Honestly, Granger, how they thought you were that bright is a _marvel_.”

Granger coughed against the pain. “I feel sorry for you.”

“I beg your pardon.” Reta snarled, leaning forward.

Granger ground her teeth and then forced words from her pained body. “I pity you. You have suffered a great deal, and you still carry that pain. Even now, you are hurting, and you think that once I am dead, it will _stop_ hurting.”

“Do not try to think you know me or my motivations. I don’t **need** your pity, I don’t **need** anything but your _death_. This is it, I win, you die, my life is my own again. Any last word before I have my husband bring out his corpse?” Marietta hissed, getting to her feet.

  
  
  


Someone behind her began clapping. It was a slow, deliberate clap.

Marietta turned her head and then stood quickly, unable to fathom what she was seeing.

Severus Snape was standing there, clapping sardonically at her. He was bloody and looked like he’d been quite a fight, but he was alive.

This was not happening.

“Very impressive, Miss Edgecombe, or should I say, Mrs. Harkness. An Exceeds Expectations for a murder plot. However, you missed the mark on getting that Outstanding. So well thought out and planned. I understand now why you were a hat stall between my house and the ravens. But you see, I also know why you would have _failed_ as a Slytherin,” Snape taunted her, stepping forward with only a touch of a limp.

“Oh, why is that?” Marietta snapped her at him, her hands on her hips.

_Honestly, she was going to have to do everything herself..._

Snape sneered at her, still clapping."You make mistakes and think you are too smart for everyone else to figure them out, you believe, dare I say it, _too highly of yourself,_ you do not plan for contingency. You are all ambitious, but no loyalty or fraternity to anything but yourself."

Marietta rubbed her forehead, sighing. "Oh, what is a _mistake_ that I have made. I still win, she still dies, you will still die."

"That is where you are wrong." Severus offered, his head tilting to the side and giving her a look she had not seen since she was a student.

“You think _you_ can save her? She cannot get out of those Tenebris Chains until the Tenebris is out of her soul. And that won’t happen until _I_ say so. It’s infallible, you can’t save her. Once they are on, they won’t let a Tenebris cursed go.” Marietta laughed at his bravado. She could smell that Snape was bleeding, and he would not be much of an issue for her to take care of. Whatever poison he’d used on her husband must have put him to sleep.

  
  


Snape smiled, which in itself was something bizarre. “Ah, yes, but you seemed to have missed one _simple_ detail in your grand plan.”

“What?” She snapped, her patience getting thin.

Severus shifted his stand, one hand coming to his hip and body language, taking on a more feminine pose.

He pointed toward Granger with a grin.

“That is not Hermione Granger, and I am not Severus Snape.”

“ _Alohamora,_ ” Granger whispered, and she heard the locks break open.


	51. The Second Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione
> 
> There will be violence here and mentions of needles, and blood.

Everything hurt.

Her head was swimming.

Her wrists hurt, her head hurt, and she felt like she was turned inside out.

**_“Severus. Wake up!”_ ** Her own voice seemed to echo at her.

Gods, her left shoulder hurt like hell.

“Ugh- what - Se-” She opened her eyes, looking for Severus. Instead, she saw herself looking at her, and it all came back. “What is the meaning of this? Hermione, are you harmed?”

Her voice was so strangely deep to her.

It seemed that they had not been discovered yet, which meant the plan was still in play.

_How the hell did they end up here? How long had they been out?_

Hermione tried to pull against the bindings holding her, to see if she could get to Severus.

Black hair obscured her view, and she wondered how the hell he did not go around without trying his hair up.

Severus was trying his restraints just she was. 

Hermione heard a woman speak, and she looked at Marietta with a harsh glare. 

She did her best to snarl just as Severus would. “You will **not** touch her.” 

Every time she yanked at the restraints, her shoulder burned.

“He’s not here for her, he’s here for you, Professor. You made a grievous mistake in your disrespect. And he even offered you a chance to live. This will be exciting.” Marietta grinned at her, showcasing two pointed canines.

Hermione had to hold fast against the shiver that went down to her spine.

She focused on occluding her mind so that she would not be affected by her tricks.

The bubble snapped into place with ease, and she was able to think clearly against the fear of what she would be facing.

It was so weird hearing her own voice raise in fearful pitches. “No, no! I don’t care what you do to me, just leave him alone .”

Her heart clamped in her chest, knowing that it was Severus who was afraid for her.

They were supposed to take on Darcy together.

The plan was to avoid being split up at all costs. 

Darcy Harkness walked into the room, and she narrowed her eyed, well, Severus’s eyes. 

Hermione had done so much research into him and what he was known for.

Shamus was more willing to let her access that file via floo when she explained that she couldn’t leave the castle.

She’d spent a vast amount of time looking into anything that would give them an edge over vampires and their kind.

It had been quite extensive covering how to use group tactics, but most of the books strongly recommended not taking one on in a 1-on-1 fight. 

Seemed she was going to have to teach the books that it could be done. 

_Circe, was this going to hurt…_

Darcy Harkness had a file at the DoM because he had certain habits in his hunting and killing.

Shamus had explained that while he had stayed above the law, it was barely, and it was potentially coerced.

If Hermione let her guard down for a moment, she could die. 

Ignoring the disgusting display between the vampires, she looked at Severus.

He was glancing between them and her. 

Hermione had not tried any kind of legilimens, so she couldn’t reach out to him.

She looked at him pointedly, and then she felt his presence sweep over her mind.

It was like a comforting caress to hear his voice in her mind.

Severus’s words curled through her bubble. _Are you okay…_

 **Yes...** Hermione thought firmly.

_I will do what I can from here… Even if it only to keep them occupied..._

**I know...**

_Please, Hermione... Fight like hell…_

**I will...**

Harkness walked forward, yanking the chains up from the wall.

Hermione leaned her weight back against the wall as much as she could, trying to ignore the pain in her shoulder as he pulled.

Severus’s body was more substantial than hers and weighed more, but it meant nothing to the vampire's strength dragging him.

She kicked at his knees, twisted, and fought as best as she could with her hands tied.

“No! No! Leave him.” She heard Severus scream as her, and she turned to look at him.

“Hermione.” She called out to him.

Severus was pulling against the stone wall in her form, looking for all purposes scared. “Severus.”

The touch of him was there again as soon as they looked at each other.

 **I’m afraid...** She admitted.

He sighed. _I know, don’t show it. They thrive on it..._

**I love you...**

_I love you too. Now, do as we planned, just improvise. Isn’t that how you saved Potter and Co…_

**Yes. Be careful...**

_I sense she wants to gloat. I will goad her into it..._

**The show must go on...**

“If you get a chance to run, then run!” Hermione demanded of him.

Severus shook his head. “Severus, please.”

“Promise me.” Hermione yanked against the chains, trying to get away and to Severus.

Hermione watched as her own brown eyes took on a Severus style harden. “I promise _nothing_ .”

They were almost at the door now, and the fear was pressing on the bubble that protected her mind.

She had to breathe deeply.

She said, trying to jerk once more. “Don’t be a _hero_ fool girl,”

And she could no longer see him. It was just her and Harkness.

The room he had dragged her into had a weird table in the center with grooves cut into the wood.

It was stained, and she could tell those were bloodstains.

Here is where her knowledge came into play.

Darcy liked to mark his victims with scars and wounds, effectively playing with his food.

Except, Hermione was going to either be his last meal, or the one he fought the hardest for.

“I gave you a chance, Snape,” Darcy growled.

Hermione dropped to her knees, trying to put enough drag to prolong getting to that table. “I thought it was a challenge.”

The vampire laughed and simply lifted her off her feet. Her shoulder felt like muscle was tearing.

Thank goodness Severus was so tall, she was able to get her feet under her.

“And you still came, thinking it was a challenge?“ Darcy retorted, giving another yank.

Hermione sighed.“You still are here underestimating me?”

She knew that he could not get her on that table.

If he did, it was all over before it began. 

Swallowing hard, Hermione focused on what she wanted to do.

She wasn’t like Harry, wandless magic didn’t come super easy, but she had been able to do it before.

Focusing on the cuffs, she thought the spell into being.

_Engorgio_.

The metal cuffs expanded, and Hermione took her chance, slipping to the floor.

Her hand dove into the breast pocket of the robes she was not accustomed to wearing.

She got her fingers around the bag when she was pinned to the ground, her nose smashing into the ground.

It hurt much more than expected because it was a larger surface area.

“Yes, please fight me, I haven’t had a good fight for a long time.” Harkness hissed, grabbing at the cravat around her neck.

Hermione twisted and shifted, working her hands to open the bag.

The feeling of a hand around her throat sent her into a mild panic.

For a moment, and she froze. It was the mistake that she had been hoping to avoid.

Pain surged through the back of her neck as her head was yanked back, exposing her neck.

Before she could react, there were teeth in her skin. It sent a wave of fear through her.

Hermione exhaled and forced the fear away with her occlumency.

Some of it lingered, but it was enough to snap her from her frozen state.

Pushing up with palms, she bucked her attacker to the side, rolling so that they were both on their backs. 

Surprised that it worked but taking the opening, Hermione threw a handful of ground silver into the monster's face on her neck.

She was shoved away, flying into the table she was avoiding. 

She groaned, sinking to her knees.

The potions that she and Severus had quaffed before taking off still seemed to affect her, as the bleeding was already slowing down from her neck.

He had insisted that there was a chance that either of them could be bitten and that he'd been working on this for over a month. 

It would make her taste terrible to him and it would accelerate her healing and recovery.

_Bless that man and his forethought._

Her whole body ached now, and her left arm was starting to lose feeling in the fingertips.

Hermione turned, tucking under the table as Darcy lunged at her.

“Clever, clever.” Darcy hummed, standing straight. His eyes were watering, and his face seemed red and blotchy.

His chin was messy and bloody, some of it falling to the floor.

“I thought so.” She grinned, getting into a better position with the table between them.

Darcy wiped his sleeve across his mouth, looking at the blood with a frown. “And I suppose the tincture is an infusion of blood replenishment with just enough juniper to make it taste like I am biting into a tree.”

“That is a failing grade there; you missed the aspen and rowan extract.” Hermione offered, her hand sinking into the pocket of the robe. Her fingers closed around a vial, readying herself.

Before she could do anything else, he was next to her like a phantom, yanking her left hand out of her pocket and twisting her arm her back. 

“Fucking Hell, Merlin’s Brass Balls. You dumb fucking bastard.” She snapped as she felt something in her shoulder just give.

It sounded like a wet snap and felt like she didn’t have an arm anymore.

Harkness laughed and took the vial from her fingers.

The clear liquid rocked back and forth.

Hermine watched as he popped it open with two fingers, smelling it. 

She could tell that silver was still affecting him, his nose running and his eyes puffy and red.

While it wasn’t something they were vulnerable too, it had been proven that vampires tended to have a natural allergy to silver.

By throwing it into his mucus membranes on his face, Hermione had accelerated the rate that his allergies would kick in. 

He chuckled, looking at her with disbelieving eyes as he moved the vial around. “Holy water? Are you serious? You impress me with your logic, but then you try to rely on superstition.”

Gasping against the pain, she tried to glare. “Some of those old tales hold some truth.”

Harkness threw her to the floor with a laugh.

Hermione grabbed her arm, tucking it close to her body.

It was still attached, but it felt like it would have hurt less if he’d just ripped it off.

Her eyes were crossing with pain that was with a pain reducer in her system.

“Let me show you how those tales fare against me,” Harkness said haughtily.

He bought the vial to his lips and drank the whole thing in one long draw. 

Hermione waited, trying to think of her next move.

Her fingers of her right hand closed around her pouch of poppyseeds.

Harkness grinned, throwing the vial to the ground, shattering it. “Holy water is as useless as _you_.”

The vampire reached for her again, and she rolled over her hurt arm under the table, missing the legs barely.

She shrieked in pain, seeing black on the edges of her vision. 

_Merlin, she hoped she was right..._

She opened the bag, slinging the poppyseeds across the floor.

Hermione couldn’t breathe, everything hurt so much.

The potions were doing their job, but there was only so much prevention that could be done, and there was much more pain than it could handle.

“What the, oh fuck-” Darcy snarled, immediately squatting to start counting the seeds.

Hermione exhaled in relief, rolling away and trying to get to her feet.

Harkness looked at her and grinned.

It was feral, and his eyes were dark orbs.

“Miss Granger, did you really think that was going to work.”

_FUCK!..._ Hermione thought, knowing that the jig was up.

“Polyjuice potion runs in the blood too. I’ve just been having fun. I will be killing your lover soon. But I cannot kill you beca-” Darcy stopped midsentence, the blackness in his eyes receding.

“What did you do?” He breathed out, falling to his knees and looking at her.

Hermione stood, panting, and managing a touch of a smile. “Did you know that vampires cannot _survive_ the lycanthropy virus? Something about how it makes the tainted blood start to attack the vampire host, and it’s supposed to feel like you are _burning alive_ as your organs shut down. Starting with your _heart_.”

“This is impossible. You aren’t a werewolf.” Darcy made a pained grasp for her, and she took a wary step back. 

Hermione smirked, wishing she could cross her arms. “No, but one _spit_ into that holy water for me.”

The vampire looked from her to the shattered vial.

He let out a snarl of pain and fell on his face in the poppyseeds.

Every inch of her body hurt, but they weren’t done yet.

Her left arm hung limply at her side.

She didn’t know how much time she had or if Severus was hurt, but Hermione had to take a potion or heal it before she passed out from the pain. 

Harkness groaned on the floor.

Hermione dug into her pockets, finding the extra button that had been sewn into a tag.

Yanking it off, she held in in her hand. Hermione said the password, and it began unfolding until it was a round box.

She opened it and pulled out her backup wand. It wasn’t her wand, so it wouldn’t do as well, but it would do enough. S

he’d made sure to have it on her in case something happened, and hers got taken.

Closing her eyes, she began to heal her shoulder.

Muscles moved, and tendons stretched, and bones shifted.

Hermione bit her lip, holding back the sound of pain but it was too much.

A shriek of pain escaped her.

After a moment, she could feel her fingers.

It wasn’t as good a Poppy job, but it would be enough for now. 

Hermione tucked the wand into Severus’s wand pocket on his robes.

She decided that she wanted one of these in her clothing.

_How come men got awesome pockets, and she could barely find a pair of slacks with a loop for hers to hook to..._

Pulling the silver foot-long needles from her box, Hermione looked to see if he was moving still or not.

Darcy hadn’t made another noise for a few moments, and she might be lucky, and it affected him faster because of her alchemically treated blood.

She closed the box, shrinking it back down and sticking it back to its tag.

Her fingers still tingled, and the pain's ghost was insistently reminding her that she was still not at 100%.

She put her foot on him and kicked him over.

His eyes were open, but his face seemed to be locked in an expression of pain. 

_Serves you right…_

Hermione kicked him again, making sure that he was not going to leap and attack her.

Severus had told her that the vampire's strength could determine how long it took for them to no longer be able to move.

She counted a few more seconds, still being able to hear Severus and Marietta talking.

As long as they were talking, it meant that Severus was still relatively safe.

Hermione kneeled and began to open Darcy’s shirt.

She had to do this correctly.

His skin was pale, with blue veins visible.

A Tenebris cage sat on his chest.

Hermione hadn’t told Severus all that she knew about them, but she’d heard about them from a book in the restricted section on old curses.

They weren’t originally a vampire design, but a wizard one to punish vampires.

Because of this, she was able to research some ways to make them less effective.

She had 10 needles, and Hermione had to carefully align them with the tattoo and put two through his heart.

It would trap him in his own cage. It was the original purpose of the design.

Taking her time, she could hear Marietta’s voice quietly echoing through the door.

She was talking about how she’d died in a gutter.

Hermione couldn’t help but think that after this, it would have been fitting for her.

Focusing on the task at hand, she did as she had practiced a million times on a piece of parchment.

But parchment was not flesh, and the sensation of pushing a long needle into it was not what she was expecting.

She had to tell herself it wasn’t a person, and that she was okay.

The level of separation offered from Occlumency also helped.

Once the needles were where they should be, Hermione took the last two and lined them up with the rib's openings where the heart was.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved them both in at the same time.

Harkness twitched, and Hermione dove backward.

To her relief, it was only an involuntary reaction.

What happened next was so fast that Hermione could barely register it.

A glint of violet glasses over his eyes, and then it was gone. The tattoo glowed, the needles turning into lightning rods for violet energy coming off the two in his heart.

And then, there was no more light, the needles scorched black.

She heard the footsteps coming to the door and Marietta’s command to come to check on them.

Hermione looked around, trying to think of a strategy. She had no idea who was coming to check on her.

She flipped his shirt over the needles with a huff and moved to the other side of the table, lying down as if she were passed out. Her wand was in her hand, tucked in the sleeve. 

The door opened and closed. 

Hermione lay perfectly still, breathing deeply.

“Darcy!” 

It was Maria. Hermione could tell by the voice.

Hermione felt a wave of anger push at her.

This woman was instrumental in her torture. 

She felt the woman sweep over her to get to the vampire on the floor. 

Hermione tucked the wand, rolled to her side, grabbed her legs, and pulled her down to the ground.

There was a loud crash, and Maria started cursing.

Hermione reached for her face, cupping her hand over her mouth.

“You have no idea what kind of mistake you have just made.” Hermione snarled.

With her right hand, she grabbed her wand from the woman.

She wrestled it away from her, and it felt so good to have it in her hands.

She was surprised at how strong her right arm was compared to her left arm in Severus’s body, but only momentarily. 

“ _Incarcerous_ ,” Hermione whispered, letting go as the ropes showed up and bound the young woman.

Hermione flicked her wand again. “ _Muffilato_.”

Getting to her feet, Hermione yanked the woman up, looking her in her eyes.

All she felt was rage and betrayal from looking at her. 

“I could kill you for what you did to me,” Hermione growled, shaking her. “For what you made him do to me.”

Maria looked at her, confused, trying to catch up with what had just happened.

Her eyes met Hermione’s, and a look of realization hit her.

“You aren’t Severus.” Maria sounded frightened, trying to pull away from her grasp.

Hermione smirked. “No, I am not.”

“Then, who are you?” She demanded, looking at her with a glare.

Hermione drew her face close to hers. 

“Guess.” She hissed.

“Hermione, oh, fuck! Mari! MARI!” Maria began shouting and jerking around, trying to get away. The ropes held her tightly.

Hermione jerked her hard. “She can’t hear you, idiot.”

Maria’s eyes looked at the floor with horror, and Hermione knew that she was looking at Harkness.

“What did you do to him.” Maria’s lip trembled.

Hermione didn’t have it in her to feel sorry for her right now.

Not with the pain and knowing what was going to happen in this room.

“Exactly what he was trying to do to me,” Hermione answered with heartlessness.

Maria’s eyes went wide and then narrowed, her head turning to look at her. 

There was an unrestrained fury in her eyes. “You fucking bitch. We will still win; she is still going to kill you both.”

“I doubt that.” Hermione huffed, reaching into the inner lining of the robe.

She felt where Severus had shown her where there were unbreakable vials. Pulling out a purple-hued vial, she uncorked it with her tingling fingers.

Maria’s eyes went wide. “What is that?”

“Draught of the Living Dead,” Hermione said, rocking it back and forth a little before moving it toward her captive’s mouth.

“No, don’t.” Maria clamped her mouth shut, leaning her head back from her fingers.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s this or poison, you pick.”

“Neither. MAR-” The woman opened her mouth to shriek.

Hermione shoved the vial into her mouth, forcing her to take it.

She didn’t care that she was sputtering or coughing. Hermione held her until it was gone.

Some of it trickled down her chin, but she’d gotten enough of it.

Lowering her to the floor, she watched as the woman passed out.

When Hermione dropped the muffling spell, she heard a loud scream.

It was her own voice, but she knew that if Severus was screaming, that pain was introduced.

Hermione gathered herself up and snatched Severus’s wand from the floor.

Stepping out of the room, she saw her Severus in her own body panting, and Marietta’s back was to her.

Severus reached out and touched her mind.

Warmth and hope renewed their lease in her mind at the sensation of him.

_Wait…_ Severus ordered.

Hermione was confused. **Are you sure...**

 _She has more to tell me…_ He explained.

She wasn’t sure she could stand by quietly and watch him be tortured. **But she is hurting you...**

 _This is nothing. Wait. When it is time, I want your best impression of me…_ His voice was insistent, and Hermione nodded, crossing her arms. She felt him slip from her mind.

Leaning back on one foot, she listened to Marietta go on her diatribe.

It was nearly impossible for her to watch herself being tortured with pain.

The fact that Severus was still goading her made it only slightly more bearable.

“Any last word before I have my husband bring out his corpse?” Marietta demanded.

Hermione had enough. If there was ever a time, it was now.

Channeling all her memories of how mean Severus could be, she began her impression.

**Clap**

**\--- Clap**

**\--- Clap**

Hermione watched as the vampire turned slowly, a look of disbelief on her face. 

Hermione sneered, taking a limped step forward.

“Very impressive, Miss Edgecombe, or should I say, Mrs. Harkness. An Exceeds Expectations for a murder plot. However, you missed the mark on getting that Outstanding. So well thought out and planned. I understand now why you were a hat stall between my house and the ravens. But you see, I also know why you would have _failed_ as a Slytherin,” 

Hermione knew it would get to her, goad her long enough to get her away from Severus.

Marietta put her hands on her hips, shaking her head like a teenager in a fit. “Oh, why is that?” 

Continuing to clap, Hermione took another step forward. "You make mistakes and think you are too smart for everyone else to figure them out, you believe, dare I say it, _too highly of yourself_ , you do not plan for contingency. You are all ambitious, but no loyalty or fraternity to anything but yourself."

There was some form of joy in Hermione for being able to act like Severus.

If this wasn’t a life or death situation, she would be much happier about it.

As it was, she was enjoying watching the frustration on Marietta’s face. 

Hermione had not expected the plan to go to this well. Not when it had gone tit’s up so early.

"Oh, what is a _mistake_ that I have made. I still win, she still dies, you will still die." Marietta asked, rubbing her head and shouting.

Mimicking Severus’s patented you are an idiot expression, Hermione taunted her. "That is where you are wrong."

“You think you can save her? She cannot get out of those Tenebris Chains until the Tenebris is out of her soul. And that won’t happen until I say so. It’s infallible, you can’t save her. Once they are on, they won’t let a Tenebris cursed go.” 

Marietta was having a hissy fit, like a child.

Hermione had to smile, she was getting to her, and it felt good.

Maybe this was why Severus was such a prat when she was younger.

“Ah, yes, but you seemed to have missed one _simple_ detail in your grand plan.” Hermione purred at her.

The vampiress shouted in aggravation. “What?”.

Hermione relaxed her stance, no longer standing as Severus would, placing her hand on her hip.

Pointing at Severus, she beamed a bright smile.

“That is _not_ Hermione Granger, and I am _not_ Severus Snape.”

“ _Alohamora,_ ”

Hermione watched as Marietta turned at the sound of the cuffs opening.

“This is impossible.” She seemed to stutter before turning back to look at Hermione.

Her pupils dilated, leaving nothing but blackness. “You! How did you!”

“Polyjuice.” Hermione offered with a shrug.

Marietta took a step away from Severus, her fangs elongated, and her fingers extended into claws.“I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

Everything.

Slowed.

Down.

Hermione watched as Marietta lunged for her, moving with a speed that there was no way that she was going to be able to evade.

It was like she was a blur of her black dress and brown hair.

There was nothing for Hermione to block the impact with. Nowhere to dive

Hermione tried to brace, her wand gripped in her hand.

Next thing she knew, there was another blur, grey, and black.

Something slammed Marietta off her trajectory, and Hermione froze in place as two blurs pushed past her.

It sounded horrible, worse than when Remus and Sirius had fought on that fateful night in 3rd year.

Severus crashed into her, taking her down to the ground as the blurs moved over the space she had just been in.

And then, there was silence.

Hermione looked up, seeing a man in a grey pinstriped suit pant, looking at Marietta, who was also panting.

Their clothes were shredded, and there were healing scratches over both of them.

“You _dare_ interfere? You know the penalty is _death_.” Marietta hissed from her place on the wall.

The man huffed. “You should have read the _fine_ print.”

Hermione knew that she had seen this man before, but she couldn’t place it.

Severus pulled her to him.

“You are an unbound, a _worthless_ excuse to our kind,” Marietta screamed, moving into the man's face, pointing a claw.

He did not step back instead of closing in on her. “You are also now _unbound_.”

“I am the _seneschal_ of Darcy Harkness,” Marietta shouted, standing upright as if she were in a court.

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Can’t you feel it. He’s dead. You are _lower_ than me. An unclaimed servant of the council, _far_ from your home territory and no master.”

Marietta stopped for a moment, closing her eyes.

She took a step back when she opened her eyes, a look of fear on her face. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“You are right, you should have.” He advanced on her.

Marietta grabbed her wrist, her face contorting. “ _Tenebris. Animam pro anima_.”

Hermoine’s chest tightened, and she grew heavy as if she was pressed into the room's concrete.

“Occlude.” Severus breathed into her ear.

Shutting her eyes, she focused on the shield of her thoughts. 

Visualizing her inner mind, she inhaled in shock.

She was under attack.

Nothing in her mind felt right; it was all darkness. 

She breathed deeply, putting all her focus into the globe encasing her.

_Do not fight me. You will be mine._

Violet eyes blinked all around her in the darkness of her mindscape.

Hermione focused all the will she had left on her shields. They were crackling, and she felt like they were going to collapse. 

Fear and doubt began to swim into her space.

_Maybe she couldn’t do this._

_She wasn’t strong enough._

In the darkness, a flick of gold caught her eye.

The long rope that went up from her shields was still there—the only light against the darkness.

The ice around her was crunching in close around her. 

She could hear the Tenebris laughing at her.

_Fight little lioness, it is much sweeter this way…_

Desperation took over her. 

She didn’t even feel like she was breathing anymore.

Reaching out, Hermione tried to grab the golden thread again.

It slipped through her fingers.

Once.

Twice.

She used both hands now, abandoning her shields to grasp it.

It was made to move from her again, and then she caught between her ring finger and pinky.

Suddenly it was like the sun had exploded into her vision. 

It was warmth and light, and Hermione was blinded by it.

Hermione heard a scream.

It wasn’t hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animam pro anima means her soul for mine.


	52. Bargain Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> A huge thanks to CorvusDraconis for being a motivator and for helping me with two big scenes in this chapter. They also wrote the badass curse from Tenebris again. Go, give them love.

Severus had _looked_ death in the face, had _felt_ his icy touch, and _lived_ to tell the tale. 

He’d watched murder in cold blood without _making a sound_.

Even the horror of death was _nothing_ compared to what took hold of him as he watched the Vampress lurch for Hermione.

He didn’t have enough time; he couldn’t move fast enough.

Severus reached, trying to grab Marietta before she could get out of his reach, but Hermione’s arms were shorter than he was used to.

Pushing to his feet, cursing the shorter legs, he still tried to stop Marietta.

His heart thudded against his ears.

Severus’ barely detected the blur of movement at his side.

It was another vampire.

Severus realized they may not have been as _prepared_ as they thought.

Still running, he was trying to think of how to take on both vampires when the second collided with the first. 

His first instinct was to get to Hermione, who seemed dumbstruck by the turn of events.

Pushing her to the ground, Severus did his best to cover her from the fighting vampires.

It was like hearing two banshees howling at each other and tearing each other apart.

As much as he tried, he could not cover her.

Hermione’s body was much smaller than his he realized, and his grasp on his own form through her eyes showed him that clearly.

Severus had no idea how hurt Hermione was; he could tell by the blood covering the coat she wore that it was not a superficial flesh wound.

It would have to be something he worried about after they managed out of this mess.

At once, the blurred forms stopped tumbling and tearing over the room.

Sanguini was standing there, having cornered Marietta against the wall.

Severus didn’t know what had inspired the man to throw his hat in with them, but he was never more grateful to see him.

They screeched at each other, claws out, teeth bared.

Severus did not pay it that much mind; his focus was on Hermione.

It was disorienting to be looking at himself, especially since he’d taken so many precautions to never be polyjuiced.

Hermione was still breathing and was watching the scene before them in confusion.

The mention that Darcy was dead made him prouder of her than he had ever been because he had been certain when he heard that shriek of pain that she’d succumbed to death.

His attention was drawn back to the posturing vampires when Marietta grabbed her wrist and started a Latin incantation.

He translated it on the fly. “ _My soul for hers._ ”

Hermione went nearly rigid in his arms, and he knew he had to try to do something.

Sanguini and Marietta had started fighting again, but he couldn’t focus on that.

“Occlude,” Severus commanded Hermione, wrapping the short arms he currently had to deal with around the body she was presently transfigured into.

Black eyes shut.

Severus had to get over the strange sensation of cradling his own visage, but he pulled her to him.

She was still for several seconds.

Something in him changed, a lurch in his mind as everything shifted. 

As if something was trying to shake the foundations of the careful tower he’d built around his mind. 

Severus closed his own eyes and was drawn into a foreign mindscape.

His tower was instead of diamond and marble, was now glowing with brilliant golden color.

Energy pulled from him, yanking his attention to the farthest, most hidden parts of himself that he sought to hide from the world.

The closer he got, the brighter it got, but the more the energy pulled at him.

In the ordinarily dark deep dungeon, there was a golden line flailing.

Instinct told him to reach for it; caution told him to wait.

It was not something he remembered being here, and it could easily have been a mind game played by the vampires.

He heard her cry out, but it was not through his ears.

Hermione’s voice was coming from that thread, and it was in distress.

Against his better judgment, Severus reached out and snatched the golden cord.

Like a starburst across his vision, he was blinded. 

It was as if a hand reached out and grabbed his hand.

It sounded like Hermione, and it felt like she was being pulled away from him.

There was a moment of clarity, and he understood what he needed to do.

He let his careful restraint on his mind and his magic go.

It flowed out of him and into the hand in his grasp.

Something fell into place and everything made sense for that moment.

There was a loud scream in his ears.

It was not his.

It was not Hermione’s.

There was no more tension on his hand, and the grasp of fingers there was gone.

Releasing himself from his mindscape, he opened his eyes.

Hermione was no longer rigid against him but settled onto the floor, eyes still closed.

Turning, he observed Marietta on the ground.

Sanguini was standing over her.

Both of them were covered with blood from their wounds that were healing almost before his eyes.

“You are out of time, it seems.” Sanguini snarled at the woman.

Marietta was crawling on the ground, toward them, her wrist cradled to her. “She has to; why _didn’t_ he take her.”

Marietta screamed again, curling around the arm that she was favoring. 

Hermione jerked violently against him.

Jaw opening, head tilting against the floor.

To his horror, Severus watched as a plume of smoky darkness left her in a long exhale, making the room dim and smoky.

Severus’s eyes went wide as he watched her in his body be exorcised of some malignant entity.

Levitating violet eyes regarded him with malice.

A voice that was nothing but malevolence boomed through the room. “You may keep your lioness, a greater beast is now for me to feast.”

Severus could still see Sanguini, who had recoiled toward a wall, eyes wide.

“No, please, more time. I can do it. I can deliver on our bargain.” Marietta began to cry out, trying to pull herself to her feet, holding her arm.

Severus could see that thin glowing purple lines were wrapping running down the outside of her palms.

The eyes turned on Marietta.

A cruel voice filled the air, vibrating in Severus’s bones.

_“Your time is near._

_My time is nigh._

_You look down your nose,_

_From your pillar on high._

_But time was wasted,_

_On the most trivial of things._

_Your time is up,_

_As the final bell rings._

_The contract made,_

_Bound me to you._

_Yet, you spread me around,_

_As your arrogance grew._

_A soul for a soul,_

_A price for a price,_

_You thought yourself immune,_

_To magic’s dice._

_Arrogance and power,_

_Was my demise._

_It, too, shall be yours,_

_With the fall of your lies._

_They caged me in,_

_This tenebris cage._

_They stomped me down,_

_And stoked my rage._

_You set me free,_

_If only to do,_

_Your ungrateful bidding_

_For your ambitious coup._

_Failure binds you_

_To my fate now,_

_Your soul devoured,_

_Like the sacred cow._

_The deadline is here_

_Tick tock, tick tock,_

_Scream while I watch,_

_You plead, and you squawk._

_Blood of my blood,_

_Though my body is gone,_

_Flesh of my flesh,_

_I am no longer your pawn._

_The contract is up._

_The sand is all gone._

_The hourglass shatters,_

_With the coming of dawn.”_

The Vampress cried out. “No. This is not how it was to go. I was **supposed** to win. Please. She is right there, _take_ her!”

A peal of hollow laughter that would fit the devil himself shook the room.

The expanded smoke and darkness in the room coalesced around Marietta’s form.

The shadow of everything spun forward, making the room seem flat and two dimensional. 

Severus wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but he wasn't moving an inch like the vampire on the other side of the room.

Another scream. 

This one was blood-curdling.

Then, silence.

The great mass of shadows sunk into the form of the Vampress that had fallen on the ground.

Everything was four-dimensional again.

Severus waited for several heartbeats.

When Sanguini seemed to relax, he did as well, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure that he saw what he actually saw. 

Severus pushed bushy brown hair back. “What the hell was that?”

“A Tenebris, Miss Granger.” Sanguini bowed formally before taking a step closer.

Severus rolled his eyes and sighed. “Sanguini, it’s Severus. Hermione and I polyjuiced as each other.”

The vampire looked between him and Hermione, making an impressed hum.

He walked forward, moving to the body of Marietta.

Dropping to his knee, he seemed to be checking for signs of life. “Ah, I see. Explains how you ended up possessed.”

“Yes, well. I didn’t know it was living in her.” Severus offered, checking the pulse of Hermione.

She seemed to be asleep, her heartbeat was steady, and she was breathing normally.

Two scabbing bite marks had appeared to start healing.

_The potions had worked._

Sanguini offered, giving the corpse a good kick. “Nor I. She is lucky to be alive.”

Severus looked at the man now.

He was dressed in much nicer clothes than he usually showed up to the castle in.

He rose his eyebrow, looking him over. “I thought you said you wouldn’t fight in this.”

Sanguini laughed, shaking his head. “You do not listen well, my friend. I said I would not fight _Darcy_ . Once he was out of the equation, his mad bride was no longer protected. Besides, she _ruined_ my date.”

“That was the reason you were not coming to the castle tonight.” Severus realized that was the reason for the more excellent clothing.

Sanguini crossed his arms, sighing like he’d been severely put out. “Quite. A lovely woman, I shall have to make it up to her. These two came like hawks and snatched me up, wanting everything I knew about what you were doing.”

“I see. And you told them what?” Severus asked, gently shaking Hermione.

She made a soft groan and rolled toward him, wrapping long arms around his waist.

_Well, he knew how that felt now..._

“The truth. That you are getting up in years and not very fast, but still very dangerous. That you were hiding your training from her.” Sanguini pointed to the form now wrapped around him.

Another eyebrow raise. “A lie by omission.”

“Omission is to light, I simply _forgot_ about the potions we had engineered.” Sanguini shrugged. “-I thought I was saving _you_ so you could save her if I am honest.”

Severus nodded at him, trying again to walk Hermione. “You have my gratitude.”

Sanguini craned his head as he looked at them. “Is she- alright?”

Hermione groaned at him, blinking and looking up at him with confusion. 

“I believe so,” Severus explained, smiling at her.

Sanguini took another big step back, rolling his shoulder. “It is best I stay over here. I _am_ injured, and I can _smell_ her blood from here.”

Severus thought this was an _excellent_ idea too. He’d not want to hurt the person who had just saved them. “Very well.”

She sat up all of a sudden, untangling from around him.

Hermione looked at him and shook her head. “What-what happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Severus said, placing a hand on her back to brace her.

“I remember those eyes. And the laughter. And a golden light.” Hermione breathed out, leaning forward to hold her head. “Merlin, my head hurts like it’s been split open.”

“I can imagine it does.” Severus offered, reaching out to touch his doppelganger.

She laid back down on the ground, sighing heavily.

Severus watched her rub her left shoulder and look at him demandingly. “How the hell do you function in this much pain?”

“Pardon.” He blinked at her.

Hermione started gesturing to places on the form she was in. “The shoulder, the hip, the lancing pain when you breathe too deeply.”

Severus had noticed that he had seemed to inherit her pain as well, but with the adrenaline, it wasn’t noticeable until she brought it up.

His insides felt horrid like he’d eaten something still alive that was striking back in revenge on its way through his gut. “I could ask you the same, with this constant throb in your abdomen.”

“That’s cramps.” Hermione snickered.

His eyes went wide, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “Pardon?”

“What you are feeling right now is called cramps.” Hermione snorted and shook her head.

_Oh, Morrigan… No…_ Severus thought with panic.

His voice was higher than he would have hoped as he asked her a crucial question. “Are you-, am I about to start _menstruating_?”

Hermione barked with laughter, curling up with her arms around her sides.

Severus wondered if he looked like that when he laughed.

“No, I always have them, I don’t even notice them anymore.” Hermione continued to laugh, obviously trying to calm herself.

_She lived like this all the time..._

“Woman, it feels as if something is spinning my intestines with a fork.” His jaw dropped.

Hermione rubbed her head, nodding. “Yea, about right.”

“You are seeing a healer about this.” There was no way Severus was going to let her linger in this kind of constant pain for no reason other than she’d stopped noticing it.

She shrugged her shoulders up, only to wince. “Only if you see a healer about this shoulder.”

“Agreed.” He could not argue with her; if he was going to demand that she see to herself, she was well in her right to tell him to do the same.

He sat there for a moment, looking at the room and taking it all in.

He had no idea where they were, and he wasn’t fond of that.

The room did not look familiar, and it was plain enough to not match anywhere memorable.

“One more thing.” Hermione breathed at him.

Severus did not look at her, still trying to find some identifying mark. “Hm?”

“Why does it keep doing that?” She grumbled at him in frustration.

Severus was confused and looked at her with a turned eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“It-- that-- down there!" Hermione hissed, gesturing to her groin.

Severus blinked at his doppelganger, eyes widening in realization. "Um, well, it means you are happy to see me or excited."

"This happens EVERY time you are happy to see me?" Hermione sat up, her eyes wide now.

He took a deep breath and bit his lip. "More often than not."

Hermione covered her eyes, and he couldn’t tell if it was the headache or some kind of a shame. "...fuck. I- nope, you can keep your pockets, this feels weird, and I don’t like it. How long until this wears off."

“Tempus. About an hour, give or take a quarter-hour.” Severus said, looking at the spell.

An hour pasted without out much fanfare.

Hermione was adamant that he close his eyes as he stripped before the transformation took place.

Sanguini moved into the room that Darcy still lay dead to give them have a modicum of privacy.

He let her dress before he opened his eyes to fuss with his many buttons.

He removed most of the blood from the coat before he pulled it on.

“Now, let me see your neck,” Severus said once they were both dressed. Her injuries that she’d acquired while his doppelganger would still stay with her.

Hermione tilted her head to the side, exposing the healing tears.

They were not clean punctures; it looked as if two fangs had been dragged back across her neck, and then another bite happened over them.

Severus’s stomach turned, hoping it would not scar.

“Did he get you anywhere else,” Severus asked her, looking over her hands and face.

Hermione shook her head. “No, just wrenched my shoulder apart. It still hurts, but not like it did when I was you. I’ll have some bruising.”

Relief washed over him.

Hermione would still need to take a few potions for a few days, but she was alive, she was safe.

Hermione seemed to sense the same well of relief.

“We did it.” She grinned.

Severus shook his head, pulling her closer to him. “ **You** did it, I merely played a damsel in distress.”

“Without your potions, I would have _died_.” Hermione countered, lifting up to him.

Severus tipped his head down to her, sensing what she was going for.

Lips met, and it was an emotional release of the tension.

She pushed against him, his hands wrapping around her, molding her to him.

He could have spent forever at that moment, as she brought her hands up to his head, her fingers pushing into his hair and pulling him impossibly closer.

His hands gripped the fabric of her shirt. He was never letting her go. Not in a million years.

It seemed like an eternity before she leaned back, gasping for air.

He felt like he needed words for this moment, something, to tell her how he felt about her.“I- Hermione.”

“Shut up, Severus.” She grinned.

Before he could argue, she kissed him again like the antidote that would save her life was under his tongue.

* * *

Severus admired her restraint in not killing Maria Anadora.

He chose not the rouse the woman; instead, they brought her into the same room as Marietta’s corpse.

Sanguini had examined Darcy and confirmed that he was dead. He even did the honors of pulling out the needles, saying that it was best he did it as a vampire with fewer chances of being hurt.

Severus knew it was because both he and Hermoine were exhausted and not in the best state for precise magic.

By the time the Aurors showed up, and the representatives of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures showed up, Severus was exhausted.

They took statements, examined Hermione’s wounds and the room. 

It was Sanguini who told them what the table that Darcy had been trying to put Hermione on did.

It was a bloodletting table. The grooves had small blades that could be activated to open blood vessels and then let it run into a collection container.

This one had a tricky enchantment on it that it would keep the victim in constant pain akin to the Cruciatus Curse.

It was highly illegal.

They had tried to arrest Sanguini; first, Severus tried to protest.

However, Hermione dressed down the field agents like they were a child who had stepped out of line.

She started citing cases and right and facts and told him that if he were going to arrest the vampire that had saved Hermione Granger and Severus Snape that head better kiss his job good goodbye.

She was full of righteous fury, and he had no idea how she had the energy to be that mad.

He was barely keeping his eyes open as it was.

But they relented, letting Sanguini go.

Hermione seemed smug as the four young men appeared to take her lead on what they were going to do.

The Aurors were led by Potter.

He seemed to conduct himself with the utmost professionalism, interviewing, and not letting his emotions get in the way of work.

Once they were done, Harry hugged Hermione tightly and then shook Severus’s hand.

There would be a hearing about it, of course, but Harry assured that it would be nothing like the debacle of her divorce.

Apparently, many high-born families talked disliked how justice was being handled by Judge Antonius, and he’d been asked to retire.

If Severus had it in him, he would have rejoiced at that. But he didn’t.

All he wanted to do was get his witch home, hold her until they both fell asleep, and then go on from there.

Maria was taken back into custody, this time going to Azkaban.

Severus made sure to let Potter know that Cormac had been involved somehow.

Four hours later, they were finally released.

In the shadows of a small town's buildings on the coast, three exhausted people left the wards that prevented them from magically escaping.

“Sanguini,” Severus said, his arm wrapped tightly around Hermione.

The man turned to him with a smile. “Master Snape.”

“I am in your _debt._ ” Severus extended his hand to him.

Sanguini looked at his hand and held his up in resistance.“ _No sir_. As I said, she gives me hope. To let that hope extinguish, would make me just like _them_.”

Severus understood why he didn’t shake his hand. He did not want to accept the bond that Severus was offering.

It did not offend him; instead, he tucked his hand back into his pocket.

“Are you safe? Do you have to flee?” Severus asked him, hoping that the man did not throw away his life for theirs.

Sanguini pushed his hair back, shaking his head with a mischievous grin.“No, the fine print was clear that it was _only_ Darcy to not get in the way. His wife had no such protections.”

“I see what you meant back there then.”

Sanguini looked around the misty dark alley and then back to him. He gave a bow, bending at the waist in his farewell. “Goodmorning, Master Snape. And I am glad you are unharmed, Miss Granger.”

Severus felt Hermione pull away from him, and she gripped the vampire in a tight embrace. “Thank, I- would be a goner if it wasn’t for you.”

That was dangerous, she still smelt of blood, and he knew the man had not fed to heal himself.

Severus moved to stop her, but Sanguini shook his head, holding his hand out.

He gave the woman a loose hug and stepped back, giving her a smile.

“Think nothing of it. You have given me the _honor_ of being at your service.” Sanguini smiled before turning and walking away.

Hermione nodded and moved back to Severus’s side. “Bye.”

Sanguini just seemed to disappear into the shadows, his footsteps no longer heard.

Severus knew it was for Hermione’s sake, and for Sanguini’s flair for the mystical.

He tucked his arm around his witch and pulled her close to him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Now, you and I are going home and to bed. We are not getting up for _anything_ , I don’t care if the castle is _on_ fire.”

Hermione looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. “Home?”

“Do you not live at Hogwarts now,” Severus questioned, taking in her expression with some worry.

A small smile flittered over her lips. “I just-, I hadn’t thought of it as _home_ yet. But-”

“But?” He urged her on.

She reached out and grabbed his hand, entwining her fingers with his. “I think home is wherever I am with _you_.”

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head.” Severus mused, squeezing her hand before kissing it.

She grinned cheekily. “Pretty sure.”

Severus held her and apparated them to the castle. 

He was serious.

The whole castle could burn down around them, but he would not get out of bed with Hermione for anything for the rest of the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a ton of research into the Polyjuice potion.  
> A skilled practitioner can make it last for up to 6 hours.  
> A master can make it last 12 hours.
> 
> It also transfers the current condition of the person that the sample is taken off at that time.
> 
> Also, I love your theories and ideas, comments, and love, so please please keep them coming.


	53. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione

Hermione opened her eyes, stretching. The sunlight was bright in the room, and she figured it was late into the afternoon. 

Of what day, she wasn’t sure, and she did not really care.

Severus was facing away from her on his stomach, snoring like he was trying to take down the forbidden forest on his own. 

She smiled at him, feeling somehow more whole than she had in a long while. 

Slipping out from under the covers, she padded to the bathroom, trying to not worry Severus. 

Itchy sensations ran over her neck as she took care of her morning ablutions.

Hermione had no idea what the marks on her neck looked like. When they had made it back to her rooms, it was a case of quick showering, and then he rubbed something on her neck before they collapsed into bed. 

Hermione was asleep even before her head hit the pillow. 

She ran her fingers over the lumpy marks, trying to imagine them. 

It made Hermione want to scratch at them, but she didn’t need to make them worse. 

She placed her hands on the sink, facing the mirror with her eyes closed. 

She knew there was a mirror there, but she’d avoided it like the plague. 

Her curiosity and need to know how much damage the vampire fought against her fear of seeing herself.

_ Get a grip, Hermione...You had to look at yourself last night…. _ She told herself, knowing that even though it was Severus, those were her eyes she was looking into.

_ It won’t be any different now… _

Hermione was a rational being at her core, and she couldn’t find an argument that held water against that logic. 

What would she be afraid to see that she hadn’t seen last night?

Her hands were shaking against the stone basin of the sink. 

Just because she was logical did not mean that the fear was totally gone from her. 

It’d been years since she looked at herself. The last time, she’d been a mess of black eyes and a busted lip. Hermione was just glad it was during the holidays, and she wouldn’t have to glamour for work. But the bruises kept coming, and she stopped being able to recognize herself.

After that, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she never went to work without one.

She shook her head. That was then, and Hermione was never going back to that life. 

_ If I am ever going to feel okay again… I have to do this… _ Hermione told herself.

Her throat felt tight, but Hermione swallowed it down as she brought her hands to her eyes, covering them. 

Several deep, shaky breaths escaped her, and she opened her eyes into her palms. The light passed through her fingers from the light above the vanity, and she blew out a deep breath.

Slowly, she lowered her hands, coming face to face with herself. Her eyes didn’t look as dull as she remembered; the tired circles under her eyes weren’t there.

Hermione reached a hesitant hand toward the looking glass, her index finger pressing against the cold surface. 

Her chest tightened, and it felt both sickly and warm. 

The revulsion was there still, but another part of her felt like she met an old friend after a long time.

Her hair was a mess, but it didn’t look as limp and sickly has it had. 

The wild body of it was back and in full force with her bedhead. 

Hermione’s face didn’t look as thin as the last she’d seen it, and her skin didn’t look as pale. 

A tear ran down the left side of her face. Hermione didn’t look like someone who had given up anymore. 

She recognized herself. 

The revulsion seemed to slink away like a defeated tiger. 

Tears started streaming, but Hermione smiled, her hands coming to her face. 

The woman that had haunted her from the other side of the mirror was gone. 

The ghost of her own visage had come back to life.

Hermione let out a laugh of disbelief, rubbing her fingers over her cheeks and pushing the tears away. 

She knew she wasn’t instantly better for this, but it was a start. 

It was a start to look at herself and not hate every inch of herself.

She turned her head, looking at the original purpose of this step forward. Her neck was ragged with healing wounds. 

The potions had only worked for twelve hours; Hermione would be healing at her regular rate now. 

Her fingers moved over the scabbing punctures, and they still itched, but she understood why now. 

They were deep, and if she’d not had alchemical help, she would have bled out before doing anything else.

Satisfied with her inspection, Hermione looked one more time in the mirror at her face. Breathing out her nose, she shook her head as if she agreed to something. Turning out of the room, Hermione felt a weight lift off her. 

Severus shifted in his sleep, one arm on her side of the bed as if he had reached out for her. It brought a smile to her lips as she sat on the bed. A roll of warmth spread over her looking at him sleeping. He was perfectly imperfect, from his snoring to his scar laden back. Her heart fluttered like a billion butterflies escaping into her ribcage.

Sinking into the bed, Hermione shifted close to him. Her fingers sought out his scars, tracing them tenderly. His snoring quieted slightly, and he moved again, pressing into her fingers. It touched her so deeply that in his sleep, he even was welcoming her touch.

Hermione swept her hair to the side and leaned forward, softly kissing a line across his shoulders. 

Severus made a pleasant hum in his sleep, his shoulder curling toward his neck. 

It was an encouragement to her to continue to lavish him in her affection for him. Hermione began to pepper his back in kisses as her fingers traced over the lines on his arms. She felt desire start to pull at her as Severus groaned.

His head lifted, looking at her.

“Witch, if your intention was to wake me, you are rather successful.” Severus croaked in a sleep laden but a bemused voice.

“Did you want me to stop?” Hermione asked him, smiling at him.

Severus rolled over, pulling her into a sleepy kiss. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” She smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his chin.

Severus drew back, stretching his arms and back. “I have no desire for you to stop that at all. However, I need to use the lavatory now that you’ve woken me.”

“Understandable. I’ll be here.” Hermione said, laying back on her pillow.

He looked outside and then quirked his eyebrow at her.“Is it Monday?”

“Not sure.” She grabbed her wand and flicked the tempest spell. It was 3 in the afternoon on Saturday. “No, it is not.”

Severus smiled at her, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Then you better be here, we are spending the whole weekend in bed.”

Hermione laughed at him as he climbed out of bed. 

When he said that his morning, she thought he’d been joking, but it seemed that no, Severus was adamant that they would sleep the weekend away.

Stretching across the bed into the warm spot he’d just vacated, his smell enveloped her. Her body felt light like she could tiptoe across clouds. Closing her eyes, Hermione savored the feeling and let herself simply exist in it.

“If you prefer this side of the bed, all you need to do is ask me to move.” Severus offered, and Hermione opened her eyes, snickering at him.

Hermoine reached for him, pulling him into the bed with her. “No, that is your side, it was still warm.”

“You can hardly say it is cold in here.” He offered, adjusting around her to pull her close.

Hermione settled into his embrace, their faces far enough away that she did not feel like she was crossing her eyes to look at him. “It’s a different kind of warm. I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t need to.” Severus offered, kissing her again.

His hands moved over her ribs, and that pull of desire was there again. 

Hermione bit her lip and sucked in air. 

Severus’s hand withdrew quickly as if he had hurt her.

She grabbed his hand, placing it back on her side. “It was a good sound.”

“Ah, I was afraid-” He began, but she shook her head to stop him. 

His hand began to glide over her side again.

Hermoine beamed at him, pushing some of his hair back from his face. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

He ran his hand over her shirt, up and down her arm. Hermione ran her fingers through his hair. 

Comfortable silence enfolded them, and it was as if they were in their own world. 

Severus leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“I have a question for you.” His baritone rumbled over her, sending gooseflesh rush over her arms.

Hermione gasped. “Yes.”

“Is that really how you think I sound when I talk?” He smirked.

The laugh that escaped her was impossible to hold back. She nodded at him sheepishly. “I’m afraid so.”

He lifted up on his elbow, giving her a quizzical look. “Why on earth would I have given that murder plot an _ Exceeds Expectations. _ It wasn’t  _ even _ Acceptable.”

Hermione snorted with more laughter. “Are you really offended about me being  _ generous _ with the grading scale.”

“Perhaps I am,” Severus said, mocking a scowl at her.

Hermione leaned up and kissed the corner of his lips, very amused with him. “Besides my  _ grievous _ misgrading, what did you think of my impression?”

He laid back down, rolling from her and looking at the ceiling. “You didn’t stand straight enough; I do not slouch. I do not recall moving my hands that much when talking. The clap was a very nice touch. And how did you  _ know _ she was a hatstall.”

That was obviously something he’d not been aware of. Hermione could tell by the way he worded it. “She told Cho, and Cho told me when I asked her what she knew about Marietta since she’d left school.”

“Ah, so you were speaking to Miss Chang,” Severus asked, looking over at her. His hands were folded over his stomach. The distance between them felt like too much.

Hermione rolled so that she was against his side, her hand resting on top of his. “Mrs. Jordan now. But yes.”

He shrugged at her, moving his arm to wrap it around her back. “Forgive me, I make it a habit to stay out of former students' personal affairs.”

It was her turn to raise her eyebrow at him. “What do you call  _ this _ then, hmm?”

Severus let a low rumble of a growl leave his lips as he pressed a kiss to her. His hand splayed across her back, pulling her close to him.

“ _ My _ personal affairs with my-” His brow furrowed, his eyes moving as if he were thinking of something.. “-what are you to me?”

Hermione sighed at him, shaking her head. “If  _ you _ don’t know, then I can’t help you.”

“A  _ title _ for you, woman. Surely when it breaks that we are an _ item _ , calling you ‘my witch’ will not leave a good impression. You are not a possession.” Severus huffed at her, squeezing her side.

Hermione knew what he meant, but she rather enjoyed getting him riled up. “I suppose, since we  _ are _ official, you are my boyfriend, and I’m your girlfriend.”

Severus shook his head, looking at her pointedly.“Hermione, I am much too old to be your boyfriend.”

“45 is not too old to be a boyfriend.” She said, poking him in the chest.

He frowned then. “I disagree.”

Hermione was worried that he was taking their ages under too much consideration. 

She was well past the age of consent, and in wizarding standards, their age difference was not that great at all.

Thinking she offered some other solutions. “Paramour, Beau, Partner,  _ Sweetheart _ ?”

“I feel like you are teasing me.” Severus sounded like he was displeased.

Hermione pressed kisses over his cheek. “A _ little _ . How about we are each other’s other half’s.”

“I do not like the implication that neither of us is  _ whole _ alone. I’m very much going to convince you that you are a whole person, and I have no desire to undermine that.” He rolled to his side again, wrapping both arms around her. Severus stared into her eyes as if he were trying to impress his statement's seriousness on her.

She beamed at him. “Consort?”

“Hermoine,  _ please. _ ” He begged her, pressing his head to hers.

She was running out of options.“Partner? Significant other?”

“Hmm. I don’t want to sound like we are in business together. How about suitor for me, and lady for you.” Severus settled on it, his hands roaming over her back.

“I agree. You are my suitor, and I am your lady. Very romantic, but formal.”

“Romance does not have to be outlandish.” 

It was settled then. When the time came, and it would be sooner rather than later once the news of what happened broke, Hermione and Severus would be able to tell the world what they were and then tell them to mind their own business. Hermione had no desire to have the world involved in her personal affairs. She’d done it once before, and it was more than enough for one lifetime.

“You seem happier this morning.” Severus murmured, bringing his lips to her cheek.

She smiled, pressing her face against his like a cat would. “Well, we did survive something that I didn’t expect us too. And, I- I did something this morning.”

“Oh?” Severus hummed against her, and Hermione tucked her nose into his hair. 

She a warm flush of embarrassment mingled with the steadily increasing pool of desire in her stomach. 

It was silly to be so excited about doing something that ordinary people did every day.

Severus's fingers ran up the back of her neck, sifting through the curls of her hair. “What did you do.”

“I looked at myself in the mirror?” She whispered her lips near his ear. Hermione almost felt afraid of his response, wondering if he would laugh at her.

Hermione was drawn closer to him, and it was like he was smiling against her face. “I am very proud of you.”

There was an implosion of emotions in her. 

Severus's words, his pride uplifted and encouraged her to keep trying to make these steps forward.

“Thank you.”

He kissed her chin and nuzzled her. “You’re welcome. Was it difficult?”

“I cried, but it didn’t- I didn’t see what I used to see. I don’t look as broken anymore.” Hermione admitted.

Severus squeezed her, and she thought she might stop breathing from the pressure. 

“I am thrilled to hear you say that.” He whispered, before loosening his hold on her.

Hermione pressed back from him, peering into his onyx depths. “I’m not ready for you to see me, yet.”

“I know. And that can wait until you are ready. I am not going anywhere.” Severus explained to her, pushing her hair back from her face.

The way his fingers slowly slid across her skin made her close her eyes as her body reacted to him and his proximity. Hermione found she wasn’t as scared of her arousal as she’d been before. The concept of having sex, yes, that scared the hell out of her. But the fact that he brought for this kind of feeling that she hadn’t had in years felt right.

“Good. On that note, however, I did want to make a  _ suggestion _ .” Hermione offered, catching his hand in hers.

Severus’s eyebrows rose with curiosity. “I am listening.”

Hermione looked away from him for a second, collecting her courage. She wanted this, but she was also afraid. Looking at him again, she gave him a soft smile. “You wanted to spend all weekend in bed, and I was thinking, we might try something a little more.”

“More?” He asked, one eye squinting at her with unspoken questions.

Hermione moved his hand, placing it on her chest. “More.”

She could see the whites of his eyes as he looked at her then his hand. Severus had stilled, like a deer caught in the light.

“Hermione, are you  _ sure _ ,” Severus asked her firmly.

She nodded. 

Hermione was tired of being afraid, and she had been reading quite a few of the self-help books that Severus left around for her, in between learning about Vampires. She needed to face things on her terms and with someone she trusted. There was no one in the world that she trusted more than Severus, especially now.

She just had to set some ground rules. “Yes, as long as you understand that I may ask you to stop.”

“The second you do, I will honor your request.” Severus nodded, watching her.

Hermione let his hand go and cupped his face. “Only 2nd base, though.’

“2nd base?” There was a question in his tone of voice. It was likely a colloquialism that he’d not heard before.

She chuckled lightly, shaking her head. ‘Over clothes, above the waist.”

“Oh, sweet Merlin. Please be  _ clear _ in your boundaries. I have no idea what you define bases as.” Severus asked meaningfully.

That made sense to her. One of her books had said that if she wasn’t prepared to ask for it out loud explicitly, then she wasn’t ready for it. 

She would have to keep it in mind. However, it was hard to keep much in mind with his hand where it was.

Her baser desires were screaming for him to move and do something, but she knew they were not done discussing. He’d not completely agreed.

“Are you fine with those boundaries.” Hermione trebled a whisper, afraid of what he might say.

“Absolutely,  _ Hermione _ .” Severus purred, capturing her in a kiss.

Their lips sought each other heatedly. Hermione gasped against him when she felt his hand move, sliding away from her breast and running up and down her sides. It was like static electricity following his fingers as he kissed her feverishly. She sunk her fingers into his hair, pulling him into the kiss as her other hand followed his lead. Hermione dragged her fingers over his ribs, pressing into his skin when a spark of desire would run through her. 

Severus broke from her, breathing deeply, his eyes full of desire.

Hermione felt herself tremble at the intensity of it, but she had no chance to say anything as he was kissing along her jaw and her chin. It was passionate and heated, but also agonizingly slow. Hermione let his hair go, her hands running down his back as he rolled more toward her. His lips ran down her neck, making her tilt her head back into her pillow.

She was not expecting it to feel this good; she couldn’t remember the last time that someone had made her feel like this. Her whole body swam with adrenaline, and her skin was raised with goosebumps. 

Hermione held on to him, fingers gripping his shoulders as he paid attention to her throat's uninjured side. His kisses were warm, and every single one sent a fire of need through her. Lifted from her, his voice melting into her skin.

“Roll to your back-, please.” His voice was heavy with something she’d never heard from him.

It was a small adjustment to make. 

She was laid on her back, and he started kissing her collarbone. 

His hand was running over her sides, and her stomach as the other arm balanced him in the bed.

“You are so beautiful.” He breathed into her skin.

Hermione shivered under his words, her hands fisting into his hair. ‘ _ Severus. _ ”

“Sweet Circe, woman, say my name again.” He moaned against her collarbone. 

It went straight to her heart and then to her groin.

“ _Severus._ ” She breathed out, one hand gripping his right shoulder.

Severus shifted her shirt with his nose, licking along her collarbone. “I love you so much,  _ Hermione _ .”

Hermione gasped for air at how deep his voice was. 

“I love you too.” Hermione squeaked.

Severus stopped, looking up at her with concern. “Is this okay, are you- do you feel safe?”

“Yes.” Hermione met his eyes, nodding vigorously.

He gave her a wicked smile and hummed. “Well, then, I shall continue.”

She closed her eyes as she felt his hand glide up her stomach, fingers sweeping along the bottom of her breast. Hermione was panting at his attention.

_Merlin, fuck, all he is doing is kissing me and touching…_ She thought, her hand coming to her own forehead. 

It was if she was starved for touch, and he was offering her exactly what she needed.

A gasp escaped her as she felt him run a finger of her nipple. 

She had realized they were erect in the mingling of sensations, but the second he touched her, there was no way she could forget. 

Severus kissed his way up to her ear, his mouth resting in front of it. His voice was sinfully deep as he whispered to her. “Did you like that?”

“Mmhmm.” She managed, her feet pushing against the bed in her rising lust.

Severus chuckled in her ear, and it ran through her like wildfire, igniting every inch of her skin.

His hand moved over her breast again, this time stopping to massage it. Hermione sucked in air greedily, as if she could not breathe under his touch. His thumb swirled around her nipple, his fingers tracing her shape through the fabric of her shirt. The sensation was multi-layered, and Hermione’s skin was jumping in excitement.

Severus began to kiss her neck again, and she couldn’t help the moan that left her.

It shocked her, and she lifted her head, taking in a deep breath. 

His hands stopped moving, and he looked at her.

“I’m fine, I startled myself.”

Severus laughed warmly. “Your compliment is accepted.”

His lips pressed into hers once. 

Hermione's lips parted against his, and she felt his tongue sweep across her lips and begin exploring her mouth. Severus gently squeezed her chest in his hand, and she gasped against him. His lips curved against her mouth in the kiss.

It was such an excellent sensation to have him touching her and kissing her. Hermione surrendered to it. Every inch of her felt like she was buzzing with energy, and it was heady. It stole her senses and kept feeling hotter and hotter.

Then it became too much.

It was like turning on the cold water during an enjoyable hot shower. 

Her skin was jumpy, and it almost felt like it hurt. 

The touch that was sending her keening was not making her grimace. The drag of the fabric on her skin was too much; it hurt.

“Stop.” She breathed against his lips. 

Severus drew back from her, his hand lifted. “What did I do? Are you alright?”

_ Merlin, she hated her body…  _

“No-” She fought to catch her breath. “Too much. It started to hurt.”

She was an idiot. Her body was an idiot, and she wished it would just be normal for once. 

Hermione frowned, seeing Severus' shoulders seem to slump.

“Alright.” He breathed out, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Want me to give you some space?”

Hermione turned her face from him, trying not to cry. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Can I hold you, or will it be too much?” Severus asked her.

Hermione shook her head. She didn't know. 

_ And why would he want to hold me… _ . She berated herself.

Severus spoke softly. “Then, I shall lie by you.”

Hermione felt him lay down beside her, still breathing heavily.

“Hermione, I  _ need _ you to listen to me.” He offered firmly.

She looked at him, afraid of what he had to say. 

_ Was this it… when he realized she would never be normal… That they would never have normal intimacy... _

Severus had his hand on his forehead, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Do not beat yourself up over this. I am glad that you asked me to stop. I would  _ never _ \- I don’t want you to be in pain, and I don’t want you to think you did something wrong. You took a big step, and I value the trust you put in me. I am not angry with you.”

The dam broke.

“But Severus, this is not  _ normal _ . This is what I mean when I say I’m not whole. I can’t even- all you were doing was kissing and touching me, and I couldn't even handle that.” Hermione turned, tucking her face into the pillow.

“Shh, stop it right now.” Severus’s hand ghosted over her, she could feel the heat along her face, but he did not touch her.

Hermione shook her head, sucking in air. “But, it’s true.”

Severus scooted closer to her, his eyes level with hers, his hand on the pillow between them. “Hermione, I am not going to let you be cruel to yourself right now.”

She took his hand and held it, in part so that he would not leave and, in part, to let her knew he was real. “Severus, I- what if I can’t- what if I can’t ever handle more?”

“Then, we will only do what you can handle.” He explained, his other hand coming to clasp around hers.

Hermione wasn’t a fool. She’d heard that before; she knew that it would only be a matter of time until it was a problem, and he was upset. She’d been with enough men to know that.

“But what about you?” She asked, trying to get him to understand that this would be a future problem like she knew it would be.

He looked at her conspicuously. “What about me?”

“You are a man, you have needs, if I can’t-” Hermione tried to explain it to him, but the way his face turned made her stop.

There was a degree of anger in his eyes as he spoke. “I am not your ex-husband. I am not any other man who has filled your mind with that rubbish. My needs are my own responsibility, not yours.”

Hermione took one of her hands back from his, covering her eyes. She was still crying, and she hated it. She wanted to be enjoying this time with him, not being a failure at something that should come easily.

“Merlin, there is something wrong with me.” She exclaimed, looking at him again.

Severus reached out and tentatively ran his knuckle under her eye, pushing away the tears. ‘No, you are healing from many things. I wish you could look at this and see your bravery. I am so proud of you.”

It hurt worse to hear he was proud of her because she’d effectively let him down. “Severus, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. How about you let me take a shower because Merlin knows I need it, and then I will come back, and we will get farther into the book?” He asked, leaning forward and pressing a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

Hermione wanted to argue that she had reason to be sorry, but the way he looked at her told her that he wasn’t going to hear it. “Okay.’

“I am not leaving, I’m going to shower here,” Severus promised her.

She nodded and buried her face back into the pillow.

“Hermione, look at me,” Severus whispered.

She turned, so one eye was able to see him.

On his face was perhaps the most genuine smile she’d ever seen on him. “I will love you the same if we never get  _ any _ farther than this as I would if we were shagging like  _ rabbits _ in spring. It’s  _ you _ who I love, not what you can  _ do _ for me.”

“I love you too.” She muffled against the pillow.

Severus slid out of bed away from her. Hermione watched as he walked over toward the bathroom. It was evident for her to tell why Severus needed a shower. His sleeping pants were tented, and based on what she remembered from he told her last night, he was very excited.

She groaned, pressing her face into the pillow.

_ For once, she just wanted to be normal and not ruin everything... _


	54. April's Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> This chapter definitely has some NSFW content.

He wanted to **kill** Ronald Weasley.

Severus let his calm demeanor fall once the bathroom door was closed.

He would not show Hermione how he felt about the matter, not when she felt so vulnerable, but he was teaming with anger.

Not at her. _**For her.**_

He saw the look in her eyes when it became too much for her.

It was fear. It was the kind of fear he’d seen at the other end of a wand.

That man had stolen her ability to feel pleasure without being afraid of the pain that would come after it.

It made him so angry, he wanted to wring his neck with his bare hands for ever laying a finger on her. 

And selfishly, Severus noted that he’d stolen his pleasure at the moment as well. Not that he would let Hermione think that in the slightest.

Severus locked the door and slipped from his tented pajama pants. His erection, while diminished in intensity from when she’d been breathing his name, was still decidedly demanding of some sort of stimulation. He was too hard to merely cold shower it away.

Severus cast a silencing spell over the bathroom and tucked the taps to his preferred temperature. Stepping into the shower, he let it run through his hair and down his back to adjust to the heat.

Water was an insufficient lubricant.

Severus cast a spell into his hand, coating himself with the substance that let his hand slip over him with ease. He muffled a groan by biting his lips.

He shifted so that he pressed back against the wall, the hot water hitting his chest.

Severus rested his head back against the shower tile as he leaned back against it. The water ran over his fingers wrapped around his shaft. Years of experience guided his grip as he began to stroke himself. 

His mind wandered to what had made him so aroused in the first place. Hermione's breathy voice calling his name echoed through his mind. He’d never heard his name uttered in such beauty before. It woke something up in him that wanted to make her only ever say his name. Severus focused on the image of her, wanting to immortalize that moment.

He closed his eyes, his hand moving at a pace that was nearing frantic. He hissed through his teeth as a shiver ran over him. This was not a luxurious wank in the morning shower; this was seeking climax as quickly as possible.

Severus continued to work his hands over his shaft, his groans no longer muffled as he relied on the silencing spell to shield Hermione from the noises he was making. 

Reminders of his dreams about her swept through his mind, the new audio of her voice adding to the fantasy. He was trembling with the electricity rushing through his nerves.

His balls drew up close to his body, his thighs vibrating as he felt every bit of energy in his body focus on his groin. Severus let out a choked grunt as his hips jerked forward, his body expelling ropes of his cum into the falling water. 

His shoulders rolled forward as he curled on himself, the last few jerks of his hips, leaving him exhausted. He crouched on the balls of his feet at the bottom of the shower, letting his softening cock go as he braced himself on the wall with his other hand. The hot water hit his shoulders, running over his body as he caught his breath. It washed away the evidence of his deed. It had been more than he expected. 

Hermione did that to him.

She had a way of bringing out the unexpected in him, without even noticing it. He’d saw the changes in himself slightly, but after last night, after how he felt knowing she was likely being dragged to her death, it was solidified. He would literally do anything for her and her happiness.

Standing once his heartbeat steadied, he started to wash, ensuring that the smell of his self-satisfaction did not follow him back to the bed. Hermione had a keen nose, and he had no desire to make her feel any worse than she likely did.

Canceling the silencing spell, he called out. “Queenie?”

He heard the telltale pop outside the shower.

“Yes, Professor Snape.” The elf called out to him.

Severus moved his face from the water so that his words would not be muddled.“Please fetch me a clean pair of pants from my rooms.”

“Yes, sir.”

Queenie popped away.

Severus inspected the soap available to him. Opening the body soap, he was met with the spicy smell that he always associated her with. Looking at the bottle, he rose an eyebrow. It seemed that Hermione preferred to smell like ginger and cardamon than some flowery scent. It was part of made her scent so uniquely her.

Queenie returned by the time he was ready to turn off the water. 

Severus offered, pulling the towel from the hook to him. “Thank you.”

“Yes, sir. Should Queenie bring you and Professor Granger something to eat?” The elf asked.

Severus wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower.

Food would be a good idea, he was now starving, and he was sure that she could eat something.

“Yes, something that is easy to eat in bed, please.” Severus settled, knowing that Queenie was more than capable of determining what that would be.

With another pop, she was gone.

Severus dried himself, still thinking over the situation. 

Hermione needed help that he could not offer her and did not think would come from books. With as much as she’d been through and he’d seen from her, she needed to talk to someone who could help her. However, people like that simply did not exist in the wizarding world, and muggle therapists would not understand the nature of magic effect on the whole ordeal.

That left him with few choices.

It would have to be someone who understood magic and also muggle psychology on a clinical level. So a muggle-born or half-blood who had gone back to the muggle world, or- 

Severus stopped.

He knew exactly who he needed to get her in contact with. But it would require a bit of convincing. Severus twisted his lips thoughtfully, folding the towel and placing it back on the rack.

Severus had another favor to ask of a friend, and he would owe heavily on it. It would put pressure on an oath of secrecy and would possibly mean that Hermione would have to take one as well. But, if anyone was suited to help Hermione, it was them.

Pulling on his pants, Severus knew that he would have to send out an owl as soon as he was able.

His needs were taking care of, and now, he had to shift his focus back to what was important. Hermione was making such progress on opening up, but she was a perfectionist at heart, and that was making her disregard what she’d been able to do. Severus knew the type too well; he looked at someone in the mirror who had the same problem.

With a deep breath and a check over to make sure the bathroom was as he had left it, he walked back into her quarters.

Hermione was in his spot again, her face pressing into his pillow and looking at the window.

“Are you asleep?” He asked her softly, not wanting to wake her if she’d dozed off.

Hermione turned to look at him and shook her head. He could tell that she’d been crying. Her eyes were red, and her face looked puffy.

He wanted to banish that look from her face forever.

“Shall I have my space back, or shall I steal yours?” Severus teased her, intending to cheer her up.

  
  
  


She rolled away from his side of the bed now, turning and looking at him expectantly. 

Taking his invitation to rejoin her in her bed's sanctuary, Severus slipped under the covers, lying next to her.

He was close enough to feel her body warmth, but not yet touching her.

“Are you still overstimulated, or may I hold you?” Severus whispered, wanting to draw her into him and convince her that she was doing so well.

Hermione slid toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m okay now. I’m really sorry about that.”

Severus folded her into his embrace, placing a kiss on her brow. He tucked his leg over hers, bringing her as close to him as he could. “Hermione, hush, you’ve _nothing_ to be sorry for. You hold _all_ the power here.”

“What?” Hermione asked him, her eyes searching his for something.

Severus took in a deep breath, the scent of her all around him. With the exhale, he uttered soft but real words to her. “You are the one in power here, you say when something happens and when it ends. I want you to understand that nothing is going to happen unless **you** want it, and everything will stop if **you** want it to.”

She squeezed him, her face going to his neck. Severus knew that she had no idea how sensitive his skin there was as he’d not told her.

It sent a chill down his spine at her touch.

“I- Severus I wanted-” Her words were remorseful and apologetic. He could hear it.

He fanned his hand around across her back with one hand, the other moving to coax her wild hair. “Your mind, maybe, but perhaps your body is not.”

“I wish it was, I feel like I _disappointed_ you.” Her head nodded, her hair running along his chin and spilling over his shoulder.

Severus squeezed her to him, leaning his lips down to her ear. “Hermione, I am the opposite of disappointed in you.”

She shook her head. “But, you had to go and take a shower. You **wanted** -”

Severus cut her off, drawing back from her so that she could see he was serious. “As I said, my needs are my responsibility, and you do not know what I want.”

“But you had an erection.” Hermione rose her voice, and he could see that she believed what she was saying. 

Hermione believed that if he had an erection that it meant that he wanted to have sex and that it was her fault that Severus didn’t get to do what he ' _wanted._ ' 

Severus bit his lip at his first response about how she could be so stupid, trying to remember that she was coming at this from an emotional and abused perspective. He’d heard in the court some of the things that Weasley had done to her. Letting out a breath, Severus closed his eyes, thinking carefully about his next words.

“That does not mean that I _need_ sex at that moment or that you have to _submit_ to me for sex. I am not a wild animal or a monster. I have self-control, which I pride myself in, and I have been caring for myself and my own needs for a long time, Hermione.”

Hermione started again. “But-”

Severus did not let her continue. “Hermione has it occurred to you that what I want, what I truly want from this, is for you to be happy. For you to experience all manner of pleasure without the burden of what was done to you. That my wants have almost nothing to do with my own pleasure, but yours.”

Her brown eyes blinked at him as if he had just spoken to her in a language she did not know. “I don’t understand.”

“I am sure you do not, but I hope that in time you will.” Severus pressed a kiss to her forehead, tenderly trying to tell her that he spoke the truth. His hands shifted so that he was rubbing her back gently.

He heard her whimper, and he watched her lip tremble as she spoke.

“How can you still want to be with me after that? I am so deeply flawed and imperfect.” Her voice was drowning in honesty and self-hatred.

Severus sighed, removing a hand from her back to touch her face, his thumb resting under her chin. He would make this woman believe that she was worth something if it was the last thing that he did. Bending his neck at an odd angle and pressed a kiss against her lips. He breathed his words into her mouth as if he were trying to convince her soul of them. “As I said, I am in love with you. Not what you can do for me, not what I can do to you, but for who you are. An insufferable know-it-all with wild hair, a devil may care attitude in the face of ministry rules and officials, with a strength that many will never understand or appreciate. And with flaws and imperfections and fears and baggage. I love all those things about you, the good and the bad.”

Hermione leaned back, and he could see the wet line on her eye. “But, you can’t possibly love that I come with all this baggage.”

“Hermione, do you think that I come without my own?” Severus asked, letting his hand touch briefly on the side of her throat above the healing wounds.

She shook her head at him. “I mean, well- no, but that is different?”

He had to roll his eyes. Hermione _‘I-freed-house-elves-because-it-wasn't-fair_ ’ Granger could not even see the fallacy of her mindset. She was so abhorrent against the world's injustice, but could not know that she was prescribing that same injustice to herself. She was making her self a slave to her own skewed thinking.

  
  


Severus knew there was a lot of work ahead for them both. “I recall once hearing that you were diabolically _opposed_ to double standards.”

Hermione stopped, her face scrunching as she thought over his words. “I- that is rather unfair for you to make that comparison.”

He raised his eyebrow at her, tilting his head just so as he questioned her. If she was going to call him unfair, he was going to make her prove it. “But it’s the truth. You are imposing a double standard on yourself, are you not?”

Hermione frowned. “I don’t mean to. I don’t- Merlin-”

“I know. It is something that we need to work on _together_.” He had not expected her to relent so quickly to the notion that she was looking at something the wrong way.

“I like it when you say that.” Hermione kissed his chin softly.

Severus found himself confused and a touch speechless, as he wasn’t sure what part of what he’d said was what she liked. “Hnn?”

“That we will do it together.” Hermione smiled weakly as if she was expecting him to recant his statement. Or like she thought he was going to go somewhere.

_Had he not made it clear in his feelings to her..._

Had Severus somehow not impressed on her that he was here as long as she would have him?

Severus rolled slightly so that he was looming over her, his elbows braced on the bed, his hips next to hers.

She was smiling up at him, and he took that as she was not afraid of the move.

“Witch, if you think I am going anywhere, you’ve not been paying attention.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Tell me of any other man so devoted to his witch that he would willingly take on a vampire or two.” Another kiss, this one to her cheek. “Tell me of another man so committed to his witch that he would face the man who tortured him to protect her from a miscarriage of justice.” He kissed her lips.

Hermione’s face seemed to grey, and Severus shifted off of her immediately as she started crying.

_I am an idiot…_ He resigned himself.

He reached for her. “I- perhaps I used the wrong word.”

Hermione grabbed his hand and shook her head, sucking in air as she fought for control of her sobbing. “No- no, it’s not that. I- I **_can’t_ ** name another man who would do that for me.”

The words spurred him into action, and he drew her into his embrace once more, his fingers sliding through her hair. He caught a tangle and stopped, not wanting to cause her pain. “Ah- as you can see, I am here and true to my words. We will work through this together, come hell or high water, and I will leave your side unless _you_ send me away. When I say I love you, it is not _lip service_.”

“I love you too.” Hermione cried into his shoulder, her hands pulling him closer to her.

There was the telltale pop of a house-elf and then a small ‘ _eep!’_ as Queenie must have assumed they were in a compromising position again.

Queenie spoke in a hesitant voice. “Professors, I have brought you breakfast in bed!”

“I think we should eat; we had had nothing since dinner yesterday,” Severus whispered to her, and Hermione nodded.

“Place it on the nightstand Queenie. Thank you.” Severus said, not turning from Hermione. He held her like she was an invaluable treasure, placing soft kisses on her brow and rubbing her back. 

Queenie popped away at this time.

Outside, the bright April sunshine was being obscured by incoming rain clouds. The soft sound of rain began to fill his senses.

Severus held Hermione until she drew back, giving her as much comfort and affection as she needed from him. Once she showed signs of wanting to let go, Severus sat up and set up trays to have breakfast together. The storm outside provided the best atmosphere, and it didn’t feel like it was late in the afternoon, but instead an intimate rainy morning in.

* * *

**Artimis,**

**I have a favor to ask you that you would be well within your rights to deny me. As you know, Hermione is coming to see you later this month for some pain she is having. I have not asked her if she wants me to attend or not, but that is neither here nor there. I feel like she may need some expert help in a problem that is not your expertise, nor mine for that matter.**

**Hermione suffers greatly from emotional and mental scars and abuse that I am not equipped to help her overcome. In addition to that, you know the abuse that she suffered at her ex-husband's hands, which had given her _intimacy issues_.**

**We both know of someone who both works with people who have suffered like Hermione and who would be capable of helping her with these issues. Someone with the training that neither of us has.**

**I am begging you, with all the capacity I have to beg someone Shade, that you allow Hermione in on your greatest secret. I genuinely feel that perhaps your sister’s field of specialty will benefit her. Do not fret; this letter uses the ink that Hermione has provided me so that no one but you can read it, and I have not divulged to Hermione the secret to which I am bound. But I would not ask this if I did not think it would help her.**

**Please Artimis.**

**If you agree with me, speak with Hermione about it at her appointment.**

**My deepest gratitude,**

**Severus T. Snape**

* * *

The weeks seemed to speed up the more that Severus felt like he and Hermione were able to slow down and spend time together. There quiet nights of reading and practicing Occulmency still continued, but there was an added element to them now.

It had taken Hermione two weeks for her to ask him again for his attentions. It was slower, and Severus, rather than savoring every moment that he was lavishing her with kisses and his touch, was reading her body movements. He wanted to know what signs she gave off before it became too much. He noticed that her stomach would clench, and her hands would go from loose grips to vices moments before she would tell him to stop. Again, she broke down into a fit of self-hate. Severus praised her and reminded her of how well she was doing. It ended as the last time did, with him holding her until she showed that she wanted him to stop. 

It became a frequent experience with them, and Severus would cover her in praise with every breath as he kissed and worshipped her skin. It was never at his insistence, and when she would ask him if he wanted to, he would tell her the same thing. “You have the power here. What I want comes second to what you want and need from me.” Somehow, he felt like he was drawing them closer, and Severus noticed that she was getting to enjoy herself longer and longer with him being mindful. 

Severus had kept his promise to Hermione and gone and seen an actual healer at St. Mungos for his pains. He took her along with him, both because he did not desire to be away from her and because she would help him describe what she had told him was nearly intolerable to her when she was him. The Healer had been suspicious about how Hermione was so apt at describing his pains but agreed that he needed care. 

At some point in his illustrious career of spying and trying to keep the world from exploding due to the likes of Finnigan and Longbottom, he had developed a tear in his rotator cuff. Well, Hermione knew what the muscle was called, the Healer simply said that his muscle had suffered damage. It was not a painless bit of magic, and Severus had to rest his arm in a sling for three days to not destroy the newly fused muscle. He did appreciate that it was his left and not his right to still teach his classes. More than once did he had to show a student that his sling did not mean that he could not best them at dueling during the club.

The pain was gone the next day, and he realized that he had also given him some numbness in his wrist that went away as well. As for his hip and rib, they were fractures that he’d ignored that became worst over time. Fortunately, spells could fit that, and Severus did not have to rest or do anything out of his routine to keep from reinjury. Although his Healer did advise against any vigorous activity while looking sideways at Hermione. Severus nearly hexed the man.

Severus had gone to Hermione’s appointment with Healer Shade, but she had asked him to wait in the waiting room for her. It wasn’t how he wanted to spend his afternoon, but he would not deny her. He opened the book he had brought along, this one on the Goblin Nation's history that Hermione had given him to read and waited for her patiently. When she’d returned to him nearly two hours later, she looked like Hermione had cried, but she was smiling. Severus did not ask her how it went, knowing that she would if she wished to tell him about her appointment. 

Artimis, however, gave him a knowing nod that told him that she’d accepted his plea for assistance. If it was out of compassion for Hermione, loyalty to Severus, or house fraternity, he did not care. All that mattered was that Hermione was going to get the help she needed. The only thing Hermione told him was that she was now on a potion once a week that could only be made by Artimis and that Healer Shade had threatened him if he tried to experiment with it. 

As April faded into May, Severus and Hermione had fallen into a routine. They would wake early together and enjoy their coffee on the balcony as the sun rose over the lake. Severus loved how the sun made her hair look like spun brass and how she would smile into her cup. It would be quiet; there was not much need for talking in the early hours. They took all their meals in the Great Hall during the week after Minerva had hinted that there were complaints from other staff that wished they could skip out on the tradition. 

Severus felt like his classes were going well this close to the end of the year. His OWL and NEWT students were mostly on track. He suspected that it had something to do with Hermione offering a study hall during one of the periods in which she did not have a class in the library for all school subjects. He was confident that much of the staff felt like it was an improvement overall.

Between classes, he would step out of his classroom, and she out of hers, and they would have a small, silent conversation between them with his legilimency. She was getting much better at shielding from him, as he was no longer able to see the fish below the ice's surface. There had even been a time when she’d done well enough that he could not see the globe of ice that she constructed around herself. He was proud of her and had started calling her his best pupil when they did not have ears around.

Grading had become much more intensive labor as the year came to a close, and he found that having her to help him was something he never knew he needed, but never wished to go without again. She had a keen eye and had adjusted to his grading rubric with an ease that he had not thought she would. It was strict, and he’d expected her to balk at it, but she followed his guidelines. Some students remarked that it was not his handwriting on the returned essays, but that was quickly quelled with threatened extra assignments.

And in the evenings, safe for nights when one or the other had duty, they secluded themselves into their own world. They read together every night, but now Hermione would take turns reading aloud to him. More than once, she had to be told to slow down because she would pass out from not breathing. But Severus found he enjoyed it. Hermione brought a rather domestic side out of him, as he was far to content to simply lie with her and read than any of his previous activities, of which there were few.

Throughout the weekends, they would take walks around the grounds, Hermione saying that she needed the sunlight and the fresh air. He sometimes swore that she was a flower because it seemed to make her look more alive to be outside. It was a very different aspect of her. Hermione would always be in her element, surrounded by books and quills and ink, but on a beautiful day outside, Severus swore she blossomed.

* * *

**Professor Severus T. Snape,**

**You are identified as a witness in the case against Ronald B. Weasley for his attempted murder of his spouse, Hermione J. Granger-Weasley, now Granger. You are hereby subpoenaed to attend the trial on July 23rd. Miss Granger will be represented by Barrister Greengrass, and you are encouraged to speak with him and the prosecuting attorney through the Aurors. This will be a closed door case, and you are not permitted to talk to the press about the case until the issue has been settled.**

**All attendees are subject to a curse scanning before entering the room.**

**Harry J. Potter,**

**Head Auror**

**Ministry of Magic**

  
  


* * *

**Professor Severus Tobias Snape,**

**You are required to attend the hearing in the matter of the death of the Vampires Darcy Harkness and his spouse Marietta Harkness on the seventeen of August at the Ministry of Magic. You are required to have representation at this time for the case. Please bring all evidence and witness statements at that time.**

**Bryce Hacklebjorn**

**Clerk of Courts**

**Ministry of Magic**

* * *

Severus groaned as he tucked the letters into his coat. He already had a hectic summer planned now, he would have to add two more things to the list.

Yes, they were necessary, but they were not what he wanted to do with his free time.

It was one week before the end of term, and this afternoon all teachers were required to assist in setting up the Leaver’s Ball for the graduating 7th years.

Severus had been working with Horace to ensure that none of the beverages could be tampered with. Last year, Malcolm Connerie, son of Artimis Shade and Shamus Connerie, had managed to get more than half the room pissed with a spelled container of fairy gin. He’d been there as a date to one of the girls graduating, and even as a fifth year, he had this intense desire to get everyone drunk.

Severus shook his head. He was a strange boy, but knowing both of his parents explained much of it. Malcolm had all of Artimis’s cunning and all of Shamus’s wits. He was a dangerous combination of the two, with none of Artimis’s restraint and none of Shamus’s will.

He looked over at the front of the room, as Hermione helped set up the evening music. Viktor and his paramour Draco were with her, nodding as she discussed something with intensity. Severus couldn’t help but smile at her passionate expression.

Music came on, and Viktor met Severus’s eyes, looking for some kind of approval. He held his hand out to Hermione, and he knew that the man was asking if he would mind if he danced with her. Severus nodded before turning back to his work, shaking his head.

Of all the men that Severus was worried about stealing Hermione from him, Krum had proven to be last. He and Draco were absolutely enamored with each other. Draco had moved Krum from his flat into the loft apartment above Secluded Delights and were quite a public item. Severus was grateful for it because he suspected that their public relations had kept the press away from him and Hermione.

She wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to have anyone enter their private lives.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile for this long before.” Professor Longbottom interrupted his thoughts, coming up to his side.

Severus fixed his face, a neutral mask coming into place. “Contrary to the beliefs of some, I do know how to smile, I simply rarely have a reason to.”

Neville seemed to be suitably abashed at his statement. “Yes, well, Hermione has had the same increase in smiling, so I suppose you two are good for each other. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

Severus stood up straighter, eyeing the man for signs of deceit. He glanced at Hermione, who was giggling as she was being spun by Viktor in a rather juvenile fashion. If Neville thought that he would say something against Hermione or their relationship, Severus decided that he would make it clear that his opinion was unwanted.

“Mr. Longbottom, my personal affairs with Miss Granger, are **none of your concern** , so I am curious as to what you think you need to speak to me about. If you are here to make some threats upon _my intentions_ with her, you will find they fall on deaf ears.” Severus bared his teeth in warning.

Longbottom but his hands up, taking a step back. “On the contrary, I think you two are _splendid_ together. A bit strange, because well, you taught us, but Hermione has never looked this happy before. No, I wanted to tell you something that I was worried about, that might affect her.”

Severus relaxed, taking a deep breath. “Forgive me, as you may surmise, I am rather private about my personal life and assumed you were here for some other reason. What is it that concerns you, Neville.”

Neville seemed to relax as well, returning to the close proximity of him. “I get it, people don’t know to mind their business. What I am worried about is where Hermione is going to _go_ at the end of the term.”

“I am not sure I understand the issue, I do hope you have more details,” Severus said, inclining his head so that Horace, who seemed to be slinking closer for gossip, could not hear them.

Neville frowned. “She said something about going back to her house and _hating_ the idea. That she’d rather burn it down and spend the summer in Harry’s backyard before she went there.”

Severus paused.

He’d not actually spoken to her about the end of term plans.

Part of him had assumed, obviously wrongly, that she would come with him to Spinner’s End.

There was no way he was letting her go back to that house.

“Thank you, Neville, for speaking with me about this. I will address it with her. Do not worry, Hermione _will_ have someplace safe to go this summer that will not leave her returning to that house.” Severus offered.

Neville was about to reply when Hermione’s begging scream ran out through the room.

**_“DON’T DROP ME! PLEASE!”_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	55. May Flowers - and an Engagment!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione

For Hermione, the days seemed to slow down with each passing day as she and Severus finally got to relax.

No more monsters in the shadows, no more people trying to kill her. All she had were the monsters in her head and those she was neatly tucking into the corners and trying to disguise them with charm and wit.

Hermione was deathly afraid that one day, the baggage that she carried would send Severus running. 

And she had no desire for him to do that. She lived for the quiet peace of his company. Hermione had not realized how much Ron had prattled on about bloody everything until now. Severus could be in the room with her, not saying a word while they read separately, and she felt more connected to him than she ever did listening to Ron speak about his day.

She knew it wasn’t right to compare the two of them, but she had only truly known a relationship with Ron before this. It was her point of reference for everything. He was the foundation that she understood relationships from, and while Severus was right, there was something wrong with it, it was all she had.

Well, it was all she had. Now, she was learning about something completely different. Severus was nothing like what she imagined he would have been as a partner, or as he preferred a suitor. He seemed to genuinely care about her and the stupid little things that she would think of. It was like being seen for the first time but had never realized before that you were invisible.

After their first failed attempt at intimacy, Hermione was ready to scream and throw something. But Severus had somehow managed to convince her, with his words and touch, that it would be okay. At least, as long as they were working on it together. It was what had given her the courage to ask him again to try. Hermione had tried her hardest to hold out against the sensations when everything went painful, but Severus seemed to know. His words didn’t chase the fears away, but his touch and reaffirmation that he wasn’t going anywhere made her not give up that night.

Hermione had scheduled an appointment with Healer Shade as she promised Severus to get her continual cramps looked into. Since Alexander, she had them, and deep down, part of her saw them as her punishment for it all. She wouldn’t dare tell Severus that, as he would have a fit and convince her otherwise.

His shoulder appointment had been first, and Hermione was not impressed with the Healer that looked him over. The tall thin man was conventionally attractive but had the knowledge base of a dimly lit room. He had enough practical knowledge to do his job, but Hermione was sure she wanted Severus to see him again. Add that he constantly leered at her openly, and she was convinced that Severus didn’t want to see him again either.

Fortunately, her appointment with Healer Shade was nowhere near as harrowing. She trusted the woman enough to get naked with her and let her examine her many wounds. Hermione still did not look down at herself, but she kept her eyes open, looking at the wall or anything else. She’d been able to look herself in the mirror regularly now, but she wasn’t ready for that, not yet.

Artimis had been nonjudgmental and calming as she noted her injuries. It was the more in-depth examination that Hermione wishing that she’d had Severus come into the room with her. Hermione had cried, and not because of pain, but because of the sheer fear of it all. All through it, Artimis had talked to her, coaching her, calming her.

She’d also given her a touch of hope. Healer Shade explained that there was a chance to make the pain stop and even reverse some of the damage. It would require a specialized potion, and she would have to take it faithfully every week for at least half a year, if not a whole year. It was experimental, and Healer Shade went over all of the known side effects and dangers. They were not anything that Hermione wouldn’t risk to feel better, and some of the side effects actually sounded pleasant. She hoped that she woke up with boundless energy to get things done. The only stipulation was that Severus was not allowed to mess with it at all.

The final thing that Artimis offered her required a lot of trust and Hermione could not help but respect the woman more for it. The Healer had her swear a wand oath that she would never reveal the secret she was about to be told and that the penalty for breaking it was worth than death itself. Hermione had been wary, but when she had said that Severus had sworn the oath, she agreed.

Hermione had known that Artimis Shade was working on a cure for Squibs that would return their magic to them and let them take their rightful place among magic folk. What she hadn’t known was why. Artimis had a younger sister who was dead to the magical world for all rights and purposes. Leliana Shade was born a squib. The Shade’s being a well known and respected old blood family, did what they thought was best when the letter never came for their youngest daughter. The locked her away and held a funeral for her, saying she’d died of an accident.

Hermione had bawled at hearing this, and Artimis handled it with dignified grace, even with the sadness in her eyes. 

Artimis explained from there that once she turned 17, she convinced her father to let her sister go on to live her life as a muggle. Artimis did everything she could to set her sister up for success. She paid for her to go to university, she made sure she was provided for and was the only person to show up to her sister’s graduation. It was for Lele that she was trying to find a cure because she desperately wanted to be able to share her world with her sister.

Hermione hadn’t known any of this, but it suddenly made sense to her. What didn’t make sense to her is why she needed to know it. That was until Artimis explained that Leliana had gone into a type of healing herself. She was a therapist in the muggle world and from the look of pride in Artimis’s face and how she spoke about her, a damn good one. Artimis had exposed her deepest secret to Hermione because she wanted her to seek her sister out for help dealing with the problems she had due to her abuse. After the amount of trust put into her, Hermione could not refuse.

She left that appointment with a month’s worth of her potions, and an appointment for the week after school was out to meet with Dr. Leliana Shade at her practice in Aberdeen. She couldn’t help but smile at Severus, who looked like many of the other men waiting on their witches to get out of their appointments. It filled her with warmth to know that she was his witch, or as he preferred, his lady. Even the look of relief on his face as she joined him made her feel loved.

The days still seemed longer to her, and she thought it was because the sun was out more. But that didn’t make sense either, because the nights seemed longer too. Hermione wondered if it was just because there was so much more to her day or because she was enjoying what she was doing. It never seemed boring or dull, just like there was all the time in the world to do what she wished.

As the weeks moved on, Hermione noticed a difference in her pain. It was not as evident unless she was nearing her period, and that had not been as excruciating as it had been in the past few times. Her body had been rebelling for some time, her monthly only coming once every three months, but it came with a vengeance when it did. This time, however, it came with and went without as much painful fanfare. She would take these potions for the rest of her life if she made it so that she didn’t want to spoon out her entrails quarterly.

Hermione also noticed a difference in the relationship between her and Severus. Things between them seemed to settle. It was comfortable and reliable. Hermione knew that Severus would be there when she woke up and that he would have her coffee ready for her when she got out of the shower. His presence became something that she was able to rely on. In her life, that had been a rare thing before. It had been the three of them; Ron, Harry, and Her, and that had been all they could trust. Everyone else would flit in and out, leaving them without a harbor and only each other. 

Sometimes, when she would wake up in the middle of the night to see Severus sleeping there next to her, she wondered what their life would have looked like without the interference. Would he have come back to teach, or would he have pursued other things? Would she still have worked at the ministry? It was easy to imagine it now that she had his presence and knew many of his habits for who he was now. The logical side told her that he would have been a different man than he was now and that she needed to focus on the here and now, and not the _‘what could have been’_ s.

And the here and now was filled with warmth and connection that she’d never known before. Severus was able to envelop her in his presence and then leave her to her own devices. He didn’t smother her or demand her attention when she was focused on her work. The balance was so foreign, yet everything she desperately needed. He would challenge her and educate her; he was not as terse when showing her something she didn’t know. Never once had Hermione felt like she was someone intellectual equal before now. 

April bled into May, and that brought the end of the school year. Everyone was stressed, so Hermione had given many of her finals early to help her students prepare for their OWL and NEWTS tests. Madam Pince offered the library as a study hall, and Hermione had opened it to all courses. While she was not a professor for all of them, she knew there was enough knowledge still left in her head from her school days to prepare them. If she could get Harry and Ron through their OWL, who couldn’t she help?

* * *

Neville had come to help her a few times a week when a free period would line up with it. She was glad for the help and the company. Neville reminded her that not all her friends were off in their own worlds so far from Hogwarts' bubble. Today was cut short, as they were all required to set up for the Leaver’s Ball for the 7th years.

“Hermione, I have to say I have never seen you this happy. Ever.” Neville said, clearing up the mess that the study hall had left behind.

Hermione gathered up the study guides she made for NEWTS Transfiguration with a smile on her face. “I feel terrific, thank you for saying so.”

“So, _dating_ Severus, huh?” Neville said with a quiet tone, taking the Herbology study guides and setting them with the other’s four-foot stack that she’d written. 

Hermione felt a flush come to her face, but she narrowed her eyes as if wondering if he would have a problem with it. “Yes, I am.”

“Not judging. I am certain that you make Severus just as happy as he is making you.” Neville explained as they went about setting the library back in order.

“I hope so.” Hermione grinned, mostly to herself.

The chairs and tables were back into place, and Hermione shrunk the guides into a more manageable stack that she placed in a file folder. They began walking to the door together.

Neville beamed at her, nudging her with his elbow. “So, do you have plans for summer break?”

“Umm, haven’t thought about it much.” Hermione frowned. The fact that the school year was ended hadn’t actually brought her around to thinking about what she would do for the three months that they were not required to be here.

Neville did not seem to notice as he held the door open for her. “Well, Hannah and I are going to renovate the pub, top to bottom. I am putting in a back garden for her, and we are going to freshen it up. If you want to come round, you are welcome to, but Hannah might put you to work. But I suppose you and Severus have your own plans.”

“Not really, we haven’t spoken about it.” Her frown deepened. 

_Why hadn’t they discussed that yet?..._

Neville seemed blissfully unaware of her dropping mood as he cheerily walked at her side. “Where are you staying? You did get the house in the divorce, right? Going to toss his stuff to the curb and redo it the way you want?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I could go to- my house.” Saying it felt wrong; the words were like round pegs in a square hole.

Neville stopped and look at her, his face showing that he noticed his error. “You don’t look happy anymore. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Hermione was lost in her own thoughts as she thought about going back. Even the idea of sleeping there made her skin crawl.“I think I’d rather burn it down over the break and stay in Harry’s backyard. I _won’t_ be going there. I- I can’t.”

“Why aren’t you going with Severus, where it is that he goes during summer?” Neville asked her curiously, tilting his head to the side.

Hermione shook her head. If Severus had not asked her to join him, he likely did not wish her to. “I won’t impose on him because I don’t want to go to my house.” The words were still wrong to her.

“I don’t think it would be an imposition,” Neville said, touching her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

Hermione looked at him and smiled big as fakely as she could.“Don’t worry about it, Neville, I’ll be fine. I have to go, class starts soon.”

She turned on her heel, ready to think about anything else than why she hadn’t thought of plans for the summer.

Neville called after her. “Hermione, if you ever need, you have a place with me.”

“Thanks, Neville,” Hermione said, set for heading to her office and then the Great Hall.

She did not think about the fact that maybe Severus was planning on disappearing over the summer and leaving her heartbroken again. She did not want to think about the fact that she would have to either stay in an empty castle, haunted by the empty spot in her bed, or in a house where the ghosts would remind her of the empty place in her heart.

* * *

Viktor and Draco had brought some of the equipment from Secluded Delights for her to use to provide music.

As per usual, they went over the top and got way more than they need to.

“You two are too much.” She chided, looking over the setup. There were lights and sound enhancements and a place for her to play her muggle CDs.

Viktor gave her a hug, shaking his head. “Nothing is too much for you, my skŭp.”

“Hey, why does she _always_ get to be my skŭp,” Draco asked, flicking his wand to ensure the devices were correctly connected.

Hermione felt Viktor let her go and pull Draco into a soft kiss.“Because my Lyubov, she was here first.”

“But I better be here last.” Draco hummed against him, eyes focused only on Viktor. Hermione wondered if this was how she and Severus looked when they were totally involved in each other.

But the way Draco said it made her think there was something else at play here. “Oh, has something happened that I don’t know about?”

“Well, you’ve set Granger on the trail now, might as well tell her.” Draco rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up into the air.

Viktor grinned as a man possessed with the virtue of joy. He walked back to her, taking her hand and made perhaps the most love-struck face she’d ever seen on him. “My skŭp, my beauty, oh most divine of vomen. I have asked and gotten permission to marry ze most amazing being on ze planet, vhose beauty is ze only one zat rivals your own.”

Hermione laughed, holding her hand to her forehead as Viktor made a complete fool of himself.

Draco was rolling his eyes, his arms crossed. “I’m right here, Viktor.”

Viktor did not stop there. “I vould ask zat you, Hermione, my first love, would be ze first to know zat zis fall, ve are getting married.”

Hermione was still laughing, thinking this some grand joke until she looked at Draco’s hand. He had a metal band on his ring finger. Viktor had one as well.

“Is this a joke? Oh, Merlin, you are serious. I am so happy for you. I thought it was a cheesy joke.” Hermione gasped.

Hermione let his hand go, jumping for joy and clapping. She hugged Viktor and then swept Draco into an embrace.

Draco’s face had relaxed as he stepped away from her. “Oh, believe me, if you think that was cheesy Hermione, you should have seen the poetry he recited to my parents.”

“I can only imagine.” Hermione chuckled, beaming at them both. 

  
  
  


“Should you like me to recite it, I know every vord by heart.” Viktor teased, grabbing Draco’s hand.

Draco placed a hand on Krum’s massive shoulder. “Merlin, Viktor, no.”

“I don’t know I might like to hear it.” Hermione teased, draping over Draco’s shoulders.

Viktor wiggled his eyebrows at her and began to low rumble his professions of love. “My love for your son knows not ze bounds of magic or ze depths of ze deepest sea-”

“Alright, alright, hush love. There might be children present.” Draco slipped from under Hermione and pressed a finger to his fiance’s lips.

“Very well.” Viktor huffed, looking mock cross. Hermione could tell he was only teasing Draco because there was a distinct sparkle in his eyes.

Hermione bounced with her excitement. 

“I’m honestly so happy for you. Oh, have you started planning? Planning a wedding can be _murder_ , I wouldn’t have been able to do it without-” Hermione stopped herself before she said, Molly. All of a sudden, Hermione’s mood plummeted as her lips turned down. Molly had done nearly everything for the wedding, giving Hermione choices, and then making it happen. Had it actually even been her wedding or a farce of Molly’s manipulation.

Viktor leaned down, his head turned to the side in her view. “Now now, none of zat Hermione. We have a dance to prepare for.”

“Sorry, just lost for a moment.” Hermione shook her head, gathering herself back to the present.

Draco went back to the sound system shaking his head at the two of them. “Don’t worry, Hermione, I am sure that Viktor will have you making us lists in no time.”

Hermione started looking through the music she’d brought for the students to listen too. Many of her 7th-year students had begged her to make sure that there was some muggle music involved.

  
  
  


Viktor touched her arm. “Say, did you get to have a Leavers ball?”

“No, we- I was taking care of Severus,” Hermione explained. There had been a leaver’s ball for her class, held at the Ministry of Magic. But Hermione had no desire to go at the time, and Ron was sullen, but Severus was too weak to be left alone. He’d just started walking, and there was no way she would leave him to accidentally fall.

The large Bulgarian drove her from her thoughts again, holding his hand out to her. “Zat vill not do, you are magnificent on ze dance floor. My Lyubov, give us a waltz.”

“Viktor.” Hermione grinned but looked at Severus, who was no longer looking at their direction. 

Viktor shook his head, holding his hand out still. “Do not vorry, your suitor has granted permission.”

Hermione sighed at him and took his hand, knowing that he would not stop until he had her in a fit of laughter.

“You both are insufferable,” Draco grumbled, setting some music.

Hermione glanced over to the beverage table, seeing that Neville had walked over to Severus, and they were talking.

She tried to not let her thoughts about their earlier conversation ruin this happy moment.

  
  
  


Viktor placed his hand on her waist, drawing her to him. “Surely, you remember.”

“How can I forget,” Hermione asked, following his lead. She was not a natural by any means, but it was easy to follow a leader like Viktor.

“You vere ravishing in zat blue dress, like a princess out of a storybook.” He complimented her, drawing her back to one of her best memories of her childhood.

She’d spent so long looking for the right dress and doing her hair. “I felt like a princess, and you very much played the role of a prince.”

“Only for you, my skŭp.” Viktor crooned. 

  
  
  


It brought her back to the pending nuptials. Hermione was genuinely ecstatic for them because it seemed like a good match. Draco and Viktor had both seen much, and it seemed like they balanced out each other. The fact that she was the first to know made her feel so important to Viktor and now, even Draco. She knew that Draco would do anything to take care of Viktor, which was vital to her. Viktor deserved someone capable of that kind of devotion.

“So, are you nervous?” Hermione whispered as he led them around the floor in a lazy waltz.

Viktor looked confused. “Nervous, about vhat?”

“About getting married?” She encouraged with a grin.

Viktor smirked at her. “Not I. Draco is vhat I have been looking for my vhole life. I know it seems sudden, but zere is a rightness to it, Hermione, zat you vould not believe.”

“No, I think I would.” Hermione’s eyes raced toward Severus, who was talking with his head bent toward Neville.

Viktor twirled her and brought her back. “How goes it vith you and him?”

“It’s like stepping back into the fairytale. Only someone took out the ‘ _happily ever after’_ and put in ‘ _they have to work really hard for it because someone broke the princess’_ ,” Hermione explained, amazed that she could still keep up with Viktor considering she hadn’t danced in over six years.

Viktor seemed pleased by her response. “You have suffered much. It takes a braver man zhan even I to help you veather such things.”

A warmth spread through her chest as Viktor’s praise of Severus. It was true, he was a brave man. “He’s good to me, Viktor, and he makes me feel-, almost like you do, but without the silliness.”

“But, my skup, vhere vould we be vithout a bit of silliness in our life.” Viktor grinned and spun her. His hands shifted to her waist, and he lifted her up off her feet.

  
  
  


And then it was Ron, and they were in the tower.

Her feet were off the ground; he was going to drop her.

She was going to die. She wasn’t ready to die.

All she could see was Ron’s void filled eyes and smell the firewhiskey.

Everything was blurry, and her heart started screaming in her ears.

“DON’T DROP ME! PLEASE!” Hermione screamed, her hands reaching for purchase, anything to keep him from throwing her from the tower.

She grabbed Ron’s arms and dug her nails in, anything to keep him from killing her.

  
  
  


Suddenly, she was on the floor, Viktor was holding his arm, kneeling before her. His hand was on her shoulder. “Hermione, my skŭp, vhat happened?”

“Don’t touch me.” She hissed, everything was too loud, too bright, his touch was too much.

Hermione heard Draco with a worried tone in his voice, scrambling past them. “Severus... _Severus._ They were only dancing.”

“Get _away_ from her.” She heard Severus roar.

Viktor cowered back, and it was a wash of black wool in front of her.

  
  
  


Severus was kneeling before her, his hand out to her.

Her chest hurt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest, and her head was banging.

Hermione shook her head, her hands shaking as she pulled them into her chest. “Don’t touch me.”

He put both his hands on the floor in front of her. “I won’t, I’m here, my hands are here.”

Everything in her screamed that she needed to run, to get away from here.

She wasn’t safe.

Her lungs were burning with every gasp of air she tried to take. “I- I can’t breath.”

“In. Hold. Out.” Severus repeated slowly, sitting on the floor in front of her. His hands did not leave the floor to do so.

Every time she blinked her eyes, she could see Ron again, looking at her with blank rage.

It was like he was a puppet, and Ron wasn’t there. Like he didn’t have a soul anymore. “I- I- the tower, his eyes, oh Circe, his eyes.”

Hermione covered her eyes with her hands, trying to hide from the light and the visions.

Severus’s voice enveloped her as he spoke slowly to her.“You are in the Great Hall, you are safe, I am right here. No one is going to hurt you. It was a flashback. They can happen. You are safe.”

“I don’t feel safe.” She shook her head, feeling like everything was pressing in on her.

Still, his voice was calm and even. “What do you need.”

“Air. I need air.” Hermione gasped like a fish trying to not suffocate.

“Fresh air, or can you still not breathe.”

His questions were starting to be infuriating. “I SAID I NEED FUCKING AIR!”

He was quiet then, and she continued to breathe haphazardly, one hand shooting to the ground to keep her from falling when the world shifted around her.

“Hermione, do you need me to walk you outside,” Severus asked her calmly.

She swallowed hard, nodding, barely able to whisper. “Yes.”

Hermione heard him shift and opened her eyes to watch him get to his knees. “When you are ready, grab my hands.”

Hermione looked at his hands for a long minute as she tried to get herself to stop quaking. 

Once she was finally able to grab his hands, he wrapped fingers around hers, lifting her to her feet with his as he rolled to his. “Up you go, come on.”

Hermione passed a glance at Viktor, and his face was ashen with horror.

“Mr. Krum, this is not your fault.” Hermione heard Severus say as he righted her.

Viktor took a step toward her, his hand out to her. “But, I- Hermione, oh forgive me.”

Severus placed himself bodily between Viktor and her as he let go of one of her hands. “Don’t touch her right now, many people suffering from these kinds of attacks do not want to be touched. In fact, this can be rather embarrassing, I will ask you to return to your duties. We will be back in a while.”

  
  
  


Hermione didn’t even realize she was walking until she was faced with the afternoon sun and the fresh air. It was as if she was not in control of her body, and it was moving on autopilot. Severus’s hand was the only anchor to reality she felt like she had at the moment.

He guided her to the steps and then urged her to sit. “Here, sit. I will stand over here. Keep breathing, and take all the time you need. If you can, Occlude, but try to bring yourself back to your thoughts.”

Hermione sat on the steps, holding her head in her hands. Her head was pounding at the front of her forehead like he was going to bust out of her skull. She kept breathing, trying to bring herself back down to her own body. Everything felt distant and wrong. Even the sunlight on her skin felt like it was fake somehow.

  
  
  


She couldn’t tell how long it took her to feel centered in her body again. When she did, she felt raw, and like every drop of energy had been zapped out of her. 

“Severus.” She called for him, and she felt him come and sit next to her.

Hermione leaned her head against him, closing her eyes. “I am sorry.”

“You did nothing wrong.” He explained, wrapping his arm around her shoulders gingerly. 

It felt right and safe, so Hermione relaxed into him, even as she argued. “I yelled at you and made an absolute fool of myself.”

“You had a flashback to nearly being killed, love,” Severus whispered quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I- Viktor didn’t do anything wrong.” Hermione protested, remembering how scared he’d looked.

His head nodded against hers as he pulled her into him. “I know, he wouldn’t. He’d sooner break his own hand.”

  
  


It was quiet again, and Hermione continued to try to calm down. Everything felt so sharp, like needles all over her skin.

“Are you angry at me?” She finally asked him, sighing and preparing for him to tell her that he was.

Severus squeezed her arm. “No, _worried_ , yes.”

  
  


Hermione let her mind drift off again as it tried to process everything that was going on and what had happened.

She still felt like she needed to run, but it was slowly calming down.

“Can I ask you a question?” She turned her head, looking at the buttons on his frock coat.

Severus hummed. “You just did.”

“Never gets old, that.” Hermione groused, pressing her face into his chest.

Severus pressed another kiss to her head. “What is on your mind.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as she thought of the best way to bring this up. Her mind was screaming so many things, and she just wanted to know the truth so that it would shut up. This was something she had power over; this was something she had control. “Why haven’t we talked about what we are doing this summer?”

He made an uncomfortable sound, and Hermione feared for the worst. “Honestly, because I wrongfully assumed that you _knew_ my intentions.”

“What are they?” Hermione asked sadly, knowing that he was going to say that when the school year ended, so did this.

Severus drew his arm back from her, shifting to look into her eyes. “I would very much like, if it suited you, to come and stay with me this summer. My home is not fancy, nor big, but I would like to be with you, and the ghosts of my home have no power over you.”

It was not what she was expecting, and she gapped like a fish for a moment.

Finally, sense caught off to her mouth, and she shut it, swallowing against the dryness there. “Are you sure? Did Nevile?”

“Mr. Longbottom informed me of your planned arson, yes,” Severus said with a slight nod.

Hermione rubbed her forehead, the ache still there and intensifying. “He really _cannot_ keep a secret.”

“No, he cannot. But, like me, he has your best interest at heart. So, would it suit you to come to Spinner’s End with me?” Severus seemed to be almost pleading with her for an answer.

She blinked against the pain. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

  
  
  


He gave her a hug, rubbing his hand over her back. “How do you feel?”

“Exhausted.” Hermione sighed, sinking into his embrace.

He nodded against her shoulder. “Normal for when your body goes into fight or flight.”

“How do you know so much about this?” She wondered aloud, holding on to him now.

Severus made a noise that sounded like a chuckle mingled with a snort. “I am a well-read man Hermione.”

“Okay.” She didn’t have it in her to argue with him. 

If he let her, she could have fallen asleep there on the steps with him.

Severus shifted his arm, wrapping it around her waist. He stood, bringing her with him. “I believe you should rest if you wish to attend the ball this evening.”

“I don’t think I want to go now.” Hermione frowned drowsily.

Severus teased her, turning to lead her up the stairs and back into the castle.“Then who will I dance with?”

“You don’t dance.” She gifted him with his own words back. She remembered him firmly telling her this when he was in the hospital wing under her care.

Severus leaned in a whispered in her ear. “I will with you.”

“But- I just.” There was a touch of panic coming back to her. Her body was too tired for it to take full effect, but she could sense it.

He shook his head at her as he began to walk her up the stairs to her quarters. “I shall not lift you in the air. I shouldn’t anyway, with the shoulder still iffy on the mend.”

Hermione looked and saw that he was deliberately using his right arm to help her, and not his left.

Severus was ambidextrous, and she noticed that he tried to do everything on the left side so that his wand arm was free. The fact that he was using his wand arm now was a feat of his control. He didn’t even like to lay with the right arm facing the bed inside if he was asleep.

“Thank you,” Hermione said as he managed to get her into her rooms and on to her bed. She still didn’t feel like she’d been walking, and that meant to her that Hermione wasn’t as okay as she thought she should be.

Severus smiled, tossing his teaching robe over her. “Always, my lady.”

  
  
  



	56. A Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He hadn’t wanted to leave her in bed, but he knew that his duties required him in the Great Hall and that his presence would keep her from sleeping. Severus waited for the door to close and the fresco to be in view. 

The snake-haired woman was decorating a stone soldier with all manner of flowers in her cave.

“Medusa.” Severus sought to interrupt her, knowing that she would keep him abreast of Hermione’s condition.

She did not look up from her task, but several snakes in her hair seemed to watch him. “Yes, Serpent?”

“Watch over her, if she begins to show signs of distress, I will be in the Great Hall.” It was not offered as an option, it was needed, and he had no issue using his power as Deputy Head to make sure it was done.

Medusa stopped her decorating, draping her arm over the man who was frozen in terror in her lair. “This I can do. Shall I start calling you Serpent Charge? You nest here with her.”

He cleared his throat, glancing about. “Do I have any say over what you call me at all, Medusa.”

Her smile curved up mischievously as she went back to her adorning. “You do not,  _ nesting serpent. _ Go, she is safe within my walls.”

Expelling a sigh of exasperation, he turned and began his trek back to the Great Hall. 

His own heart had long since stopped racing, but he still had the leftover sensation of discomfort at hearing her scream like that again. 

“Severus, is she alright?” Minerva was the first to be at his side with questions. 

He offered a glare to others that thought to approach him as he leaned toward her. “She is resting. Hermione will be fine. This- these can happen, though, had hoped that she would not suffer them.”

“What happened. One second she was laughing and giggling with Mr. Krum, and the next, it was terror.” Minerva’s expression was pinched and worried.

Severus thought his words over and decided that it would be Minerva of the people who needed to know this about Hermione. “Hermione suffers from what muggles call PTSD. One of the symptoms is flashbacks, which is where the mind associates something with the event, and when it happens, they relive it. Hermione, it seems, does not like her feet off the ground, and Mr. Krum must have lifted her.”

“You should tell Mr. Krum this, he is, beside himself.” Minerva gestured toward the music booth.

Severus looked over, and the ordinarily jovial young man was now very sullen. 

His godson was trying to distract him and cheer him, but it seems that Viktor was not having any of it.

“I shall. She will be here this evening.” Severus offered as he departed from her side.

Severus approached the two, paying no mind to the others that were curiously working but paying attention to him. They were not very good at looking inconspicuous. 

Draco looked at him, his eyes sad for just a moment before a hardness took place there. Draco stood up, looking for all the world like he was going to defend Viktor from him. 

Severus tilted his head at him, raising an eyebrow.

“It was an accident, Severus, and he feels horrid. So if you are here to berate him, I’ll not have it.”

“Draco.” The word was heavy with hidden meaning. 

The young blonde did not stand down parroting his tone. “Severus.”

Severus turned from him now, addressing Viktor. “Mr. Krum, as I briefly said before, this was not your fault. However, I will ask that you do not hoist my lady into the air in the future without considering that it is an experience that has been tainted. She wished for you to know that she is resting and that she knows you did not mean her any harm.”

Sad, dark eyes seemed to brighten. “Hermione is alright? I swear to you, Professor Snape, I did not mean to harm Hermione. I did not vhink it vould.”

“I am aware of that fact, Mr. Krum. You may express your apologies to her when she returns to the dance this evening. Now, you will excuse me.” Severus looked at Draco, who seemed to relax. 

He would not show his pride in the young man right now, but it spoke volumes to Severus about how much he cared about Viktor to stand up to him.

He turned to walk away, resigning himself to the task of negative proofing punch bowls for the next several hours.

“Severus, wait. We, I want you to be second to know.” Draco said, catching his arm.

Severus turned to him curiously, eyebrow raised. “Second to know what?”

“Viktor asked me to marry him. Well, he asked father first, who said gave his blessing and then asked me. We are getting married in the fall.” Draco whispered.

Severus took a moment, schooling his features to only let the slightest ghost of a smile grace his lips. 

His thoughts were moved to wonder who Draco had told before him if he was the second.

“Who was first.”

“Hermione,” Viktor added, coming to stand closer to the two of them. His shoulders were not as bowed, and he seemed less like a sad puppy and more like a lost one. 

It was Draco’s problem, not his, so that was glazed over.

Severus smiled a bit more. It was likely why she was laughing so much while they were dancing. “Congratulations to both of you. Once we’ve settled, come over for dinner, the both of you. I am sure Hermione will appreciate it.”

“She is going to be with you over summer?” Draco’s mouth went agape.

Draco’s reaction was expected, as Severus was very private during his times away from the school and rarely if ever, invited someone to visit him. 

The fact that he’d invited Hermione to stay had Draco obviously awestruck.

A scowl took over Severus’s face as he considered his godson. “Don’t gawk, it is rude.”

“How long until you make her your wife instead of your lady?” Draco managed, seemingly in shock.

The question took him off guard, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Draco.” Severus hissed.

Draco took a step back, grasping Viktor to having him do the same.“I know, I know, none of my business.”

“Indeed.” Severus groused, turning without another word to the two of them.

* * *

Severus was nervous, and he hated it. 

He was not a schoolboy, waiting for his date, but he could not tell that to his palms or his heart. 

He’d arrived early, something he never did to these kinds of events, and was now waiting as other staff members filtered in.

He’d checked with Medusa on her, who refused to permit him access to her rooms. 

He was told that Hermione had asked him to wait for her downstairs and that unless Hermione changed her mind, short of a direct order from the Headmistress, Medusa was not opening the door. 

So he waited, impatiently, trying to count backward from one hundred and getting cross every time he had to start over. 

Severus was dangerously close to marching up there to meet her when she came into view. 

Time seemed to freeze as she smiled at him sheepishly. 

Her dress was the color of mulberry wine, and it moved around her ankles with a soft glide of fabric. Her arms were covered to her elbows, and glittering sequins adorned the gown's waist and modest neckline. Her unruly mane had been tamed it seemed, wild curls settled into ringlets. 

Severus had seen her in dress robes, dueling robes, and even in a dress long ago, but nothing was compared to _this_. 

Before he even realized it, she was in front of him, still looking sheepish. 

“Sorry, my hair decided it was going to fight back today.” Hermione apologized, her lips curling into a soft smile. “Do I look alright?”

Severus struggled for words for a moment because his mind seemed to have forgotten the English language's entirety. 

All he could do was look at her and marvel at how beautiful she was.

Her face seemed to fall at his silence. “I tried to be professional. It’s too much, isn’t it? I- I think I’ll go change.”

“No, you will not.” Severus found his voice as words crashed into his mind, clasping his hand in hers. “You have exquisite taste in your attire. You look beautiful.”

Severus watched as Hermione’s face flushed pink. “Are you sure?”

“Madam, you just rendered me speechless. Gather your own assumptions from that.” Severus mused, placing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Hermione’s blush deepened, and Severus grinned at her. “Minerva is waiting for you by your station.”

“You sure I’m not too much?” Hermione asked, taking a step back and giving a spin. 

Severus’s breath caught as she did. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so beautiful before. 

All the tension and nerves of waiting for her vanished in the wake of his awe and love.

She was waiting for an answer again, and he took in a deep breath, nodding. “For some men, maybe, but I find I like the challenge.”

“I meant the _dress_!” Hermione stomped at him, laughing.

His eyebrow quirked as he regained a severe expression. “Oh, not at all, you look like a classic painting.”

“Thank you.” Hermione placed a kiss on his cheek.

  
  
  


Severus whispered into her ear. “How do you feel?”

“Better now.” He could feel her grin against his cheek.

Severus leaned back, giving her an approving nod.“If you need to leave at any point, Minerva has given you permission.”

“Not until you leave.” Hermione squeezed his hand.

He tilted his head forward, displaying the seriousness of his words. “Do not put yourself in discomfort on my behalf.”

“I won’t. See you later.” Hermione said, stepping away from him.

He watched her turn from him to head into the decorated hall, her dress moving like waves on the sea.

Severus called after her, surprising Flitwick, who was coming down the stairs. “I expect you to allot a moment to dance with me later.”

“You were serious.” She stopped, her lips spreading in a beam that lit up her whole face.

“As the grave.” Severus nodded, seeing that the small man frozen out of the corner of his eyes as if he was trying to not intrude on this moment.

Hermione inclined her head to him. “You let me know when.”

Severus swore that she glided away into the Great Hall.

“You can breathe now, Filius.” Severus offered, following her into the room with a determined pace.

* * *

Severus remained in the same place he always did during Leavers Balls. 

Near the refreshments, arms crossed as a measure to prevent unwanted conversation. Unless he was out checking carriages, there was no reason for him to move from this spot. 

He had the best vantage point, and he could prevent any unwanted tampering.

Malcolm Connerie had already tried to spike the punch bowls. _**Twice.**_

Severus, however, found this ball much different than he’d ever been too before. 

Hermione was near the stage, offering assistance to Draco, who had declared himself DJ. 

From where he stood, she was the center of his view.

Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself, laughing and smiling with students, and occasionally joining in some muggle dance, she’d taught her 7th years. He’d never heard of the cha-cha slide, but apparently, it was popular, as many students who did not take her class were joining in on it. He’d never seen her laugh this much. Severus felt a swell of some deep emotion that pulled at heartstrings and made him infinitely more in love with her.

“I heard that you promised a certain young lady a dance.” Minerva slinked up like the cat she was, stopping on his left side.

Severus did not look at her; his face still a neutral mask. “I suppose Filius has recovered from his near-death experience then?”

“He has. I have to say that if you’d told me last year that I would see this development for you, that I would have thought you befuddled.” Hermione chuckled, her face scanning the students as they stood there.

Severus exhaled with humor in his voice. “I may be.”

“Severus, she is good for you. And by the way she is smiling over there, I’d say you are good for her as well.” The Headmistress intimated, tilting her head toward the woman in question.

Severus watched her sing along with her students, who seemed to be having just as much fun as she was. “She has a way about her.”

“Of bringing out the best in others, yes. It is why Hermione is one of my favorites.” Minerva offered, her wand flicking out and separating two students who were expressing a horizontal desire vertically.

Severus snorted. “A Headmistress should not have favorites.”

“She is a former pupil, I can call her my favorite if I wish,” Minerva said, slipping her wand away.

“And an employee.”

Minerva’s face made a displeased expression. “True. Vector said she has an announcement at the staff meeting this Friday.”

“Announcing her retirement again?” Severus said curiously, glaring at Mr. Connerie as he attempted to sneak back to the refreshment table.

“Not sure. But, if my suspicions are right, then we will have to make arrangements.” Minerva’s tone belied concern.

Severus looked at her, eyes narrowed. “What manner of _arrangements_.”

“Once I know more, so shall you. Now, go ask that woman to dance before I die of anticipation.” Minerva said, placing her hand on his arm and giving him a gentle push.

Severus eyed her and straightened his coat. “Is it for you or for her that I am doing this.”

“For her, but I wish to witness the breaking of the streak of Severus Snape does not dance.” Minerva teased with a feline grin. 

Severus grumbled. “Incouragable.”

  
  
  
  


Stepping away from her, he made his way around the throng of dancing students. 

He made eye contact with Draco, tilting his head in such a way to convey his intentions to the young man. 

Draco winked and turned, returning to his job. 

The music shifted from the raucous, fast-paced dancing music to slower, more appropriate music. Severus knew that she wasn’t watching him, and he used it to his advantage, stepping up directly behind Hermione and clearing his throat.

She spun, and her face was red from dancing, and her eyes seemed to sparkle at him. 

Severus exhaled, closing out all the sensations of humiliation and embarrassment of having the whole room looking at him and tucked his hand behind his back. 

He offered her his hand, bowing slightly. “May I have this dance?” 

“I thought you would never ask,” Hermione said breathlessly, taking his hand.

Severus straightened and guided her to him, his hand taking her waist. “I hope you do forgive, I only know how to waltz, because it is a requirement as Head of House to teach it.”

“I also only know how to waltz.” Hermione snickered. 

Severus kept his face as calm as possible, even as his heart was rapidly thrumming against his breastbone. 

He led her in the steps, pleased that Hermione was not so headstrong as to try to lead in this. 

He supposed he would have Krum to think for that.

“Severus, literally everyone is watching us,” Hermione whispered, leaning her head toward him as they moved. 

“I am infinitely aware of it. However, I promised you a dance.” They were at a respectable distance from each other; Severus would not have someone shouting of impropriety and ruining it.

Hermione’s smile softened, and her eyes warm with gratitude. 

He found he didn’t care that he was being watched because she was the only thing that mattered to him. 

Something in him had changed, shifted in these last six months, and many of his insecurities about her were hollow ghosts of what they were before.

It was easy to fail into the music's time and simply enjoy that moment there with her. 

Severus seemed to be having temporal problems because time once again slowed around them. 

Her warm hand was on his shoulder, and the other in his hand made it feel like they were so intimately connected that the room faded.

When it came to the point where he would lift her, Severus shifted. 

“I have you.” He promised her. 

He let her waist go and spun her on her toes instead, bringing her back to his hold.

Her hand grasped his shoulder, her chest rising quickly with the surprise. “Much better than a lift.”

“I thought you would think so,” Severus whispered with a smile as they continued to dance.

Time caught up to them eventually, and the song ended. Severus released her with a bow and a kiss to the back of her hand. “Thank you, Hermione.”

“Of course, Severus.” She purred back to him, lifting and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

He heard the gasp of several students nearby, but he filed that away as something to deal with later.

With a final smile, he returned to Minerva’s side. 

She had all the look of a proud mother and a mischievous imp. 

He wasn’t sure how those two expressions could be in place at once, but Minerva had always been a marvel of mystery.

  
  


He could tell that the older woman was nearly bursting at the seams with something to say. It was like having a cauldron that threatened to overboil at his elbow. 

It made him nervous.

“Go on, before you explode from containment.” Severus finally relented, knowing that he would regret this.

Minerva’s voice was low, but abundant in pride. “I have _never_ seen you look so happy in all the years I have known you.”

“That is it.” With a raised brow, he looked at her.

Her lips curled up, showing her teeth. “You two looked as if we all no longer existed and I dare say, she is in as much love with you as you are with her.”

“Anything else.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head at her. 

The embarrassment of being the center of attention in such a manner was settling back in on him.

She barked a laugh. “You need to work on your spins.”

_Of course… the woman would have to pick at his dancing too…_ Bemoaning internally, Severus hoped she had nothing else to say.

He closed the conversation off. “Thank you, that is more than enough.”

  
  


Severus looked at Hermione, who was leaning on Viktor as she adjusted her shoe. 

She was chatting happily, and Mr. Krum looked like he was just as pleased with their conversation. 

He was still taken aback with how lovely she looked, even though he’d spent the whole evening watching her.

  
  
  


“I shall leave you to your thoughts. If you desire to dance with Hermione again, I shall take up your guard.” Minerva said, reminding him that she was standing there.

Severus shook his head. “That shall not be necessary, if I wish to dance with her again, I have all summer to do so in private.”

“The offer stands,” Minerva said, touching his arm knowingly and then returning to the other staff who seemed to be gossiping as Potter was back in school again.

Severus paid it no mind, going about his business of making sure that the drinks were untampered with and catching eyes with Hermione every once in a while. 

He could not wait until he could hold her in his arms later this evening and relish the fact that she had chosen him of all the people in the world.

  
  
  



	57. the closing of a chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione

Hermione couldn’t remember when she had this much fun. 

She loved music, and she loved dancing and being in general silly because it was something she’d never really had time to do.

It was what was so integral to her and Viktor’s friendship; he brought all the silliness out of her. 

When Viktor encouraged her to teach him how to do the Cha-Cha Slide, she thought she would die with laughter.

It was possibly the silliest she’d been in a while, with the hopping and cha-cha’ing.

She refused to get low when those parts came up but watching Viktor do it made her burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

Her students seemed to get into it, and it felt for the first time in a long time like she was full of life. Her curls would get into her face, and more than once, Draco had to zap them back into place, but it was worth it.

Once she was done, she had sweat across the back of her neck, but she couldn’t stop grinning. 

“You are a marvelous teacher. I demand that you bring this to the wedding.” Viktor whispered to her, laughing intensely.

Hermione nodded. “I will. As long as your families don’t hex me for ‘muggle’-ing it up.”

“Never.” Viktor smiled before wandering up to check on Draco.

  
  


Hermione took in a deep breath, gathering herself before joining her students in more dancing.

Draco was doing an excellent job of blending wrock in with the muggle music she’d provided. It had to do with the fact that he ran a nightclub because she couldn’t see this skill coming in handy for any other reason.

The music shifted to something slower, and she thanked Draco for the break, taking a breather.

Her students seemed to pair off, and she was just about to go to the stage when a throat cleared behind her.

Hermione turned to see Severus standing here, and her heart climbed into her throat.

As much as he said that he was serious, she didn’t dare let herself hope that he would. But as he bowed to her and offered her hand,

Hermione felt a giddy rush of butterflies crawl through her veins.

She didn’t know what she said to him, taking his hand as he pulled her to him. It could have been a potions recipe or absolute gibberish, but it didn’t matter. 

Severus Snape, _**the man who did not dance**_ , was dancing with her.

Her relief at the fact that he did not want to do anything fancier than a waltz showed on her face.

Her mouth seemed to be working on autopilot as she followed his motions.

Hermione might have been able to follow him if he were doing something else, but not well.

Hermione's hand was on his shoulder, and she felt him shift it forward, urging her to step back. 

She didn’t know if he knew it or not, but he was a decisive lead. He had control over his body that made it, so she knew when to step almost before moving.

It had to be from years of having to teach daft students and because Severus did not know how to do anything with imperfection.

Hermione turned her head and saw that many of the dancers had stopped, eyes on the two of them.

It seemed like everyone’s eyes were on them. The butterflies abated for a moment, and she leaned toward him, over the distance between them.

  
  


She whispered quietly, unsure if he would hear her or not over the sway of the music. “Severus, literally everyone is watching us,” 

His face told her that he knew. “I am infinitely aware of it. However, I promised you a dance.”

The fact that he did not care made a hot flush of warmth cover her from head to toe. She knew about his preferences to keep things as discreet as they were able now, and knowing that he didn’t care about this showed her how much he cared.

Hermione could do nothing more than look at him with love in her eyes as he maneuvered them to the music.

Heart beating in her chest like a caged bird, Hermione could sense that they were getting to the part where she would typically be hoisted into the air.

While she loved it before, now, it was something that brought swirls of fear to her.

“I have you.” He whispered, and Hermione was not able to respond as Severus took her hand and twirled her away from him.

She felt her dress move around her, creating a feeling like she really was in the fairytale that she’d been talking to Viktor about earlier.

His hand caught her waist, centering her in the here and now.

Hermione did not want this moment to stop.

Something connected to him then, a oneness that swept through her lungs and captured her heart.

But all too soon, the music ended, and they were still. Hermione wanted to dance the whole night with him, but that was not possible; they had work to do.

Hermione was barely able to utter a thank you, so full of emotion and happiness. Severus kissed her hand, and Hermione lifted to press a kiss to her cheek.

They shared a look, and Hermione knew that Severus had enjoyed it as much as her.

The music rose again to dancing levels, and Severus was gone, back to his watchful ways.

Hermione had to take a breath; she felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room for her.

  
  


“Granger, what did you do to my Godfather?” Draco asked her as she stood next to the music booth.

Hermione rose an eyebrow at him. “Nothing.”

“Oh merlin, you are starting to look like him too. I- he never dances. He wouldn’t even dance at my parent’s anniversary with my mother. How did you get him to?” Draco exclaimed, eyes wide with amazement.

She couldn’t stop the happiness on her face at this statement from Draco. “He is the one who promised me he would dance with me. I didn’t even ask him too.”

“Hermione, whatever it is you are doing, keep it up. Look at him over there, he is almost smiling.” Draco said, gesturing to where Severus was standing next to Minerva.

He looked happy, even with his straight-line expression. It was in his shoulders and how his eyes were not dull, but vibrant and sparkling like jet in the sun.

“Hermione, zat vas vonderful. Such beauty, such grace. You and he looked like you belonged at a royal ball, rather zhan here vith us. You, a princess, and him, a regal prince.” Viktor said, wrapping his arm around her.

Hermione leaned on him, fixing the strap of her shoes. “Viktor, you keep talking like that, and I am going to think you like him.”

Viktor laughed in her ear. “My skup, I do, but for you. Your eyes say much, zat you love him. More zhan ze redhead kopele?”

It took her a moment to translate what he said, and then she rolled her eyes at him.

_Of course, Viktor would call him a bastard…_

“I- really do. What we have is the difference between a candle and the sun. Severus is my sunny day and well, my ex-husband, barely a candle.” Hermione whispered.

Viktor suddenly beamed and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yes, zhis is vhot I vant for you. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, Viktor.” Hermione blushed, letting him go and testing her shoe. It was snug again.

Viktor took her hands now, and he was dragging her to the dance floor again, his energy seemingly endless. “Now, let us dance until our feet fall away, and ze children cannot keep up.”

“Draco, how do you deal with this all the time,” Hermione called behind her shoulder.

Draco smirked at her. “Practice, patience, and a touch of passion.”

Viktor swept her into the students, dancing with her and them as the night moved on.

* * *

Hermione could not feel her feet. Long lost were her hope for her shoes, as even with cushioning charms, there was no way that she could stand in them any longer.

Viktor had danced with her until the very end when the last students slunk away to their rooms.

Her heels were hooked over her fingers as she stepped out of the room, taking in the fresh air from the doors.

“Has Mr. Krum finished with you for the evening?”

Hermione turned around to see Severus come up to her side.

“Yes, and if not, too bad, I am danced out.” Hermione giggled, yawning.

Severus offered her his arm. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I was. It was much more fun than I expected, and I was able to keep an eye on a lot of students much more by being in the crowd than outside of it.” Hermione explained, wrapping her fingers around his forearm.

They began walking, and Hermione had to be careful to not stumble up the stairs. 

Severus seemed to notice this and slipped his arm around her waist, giving her stability. “This is why some of us do not dance the night away. You will ache tomorrow.”

“But a good ache. I’m ready for good aches and pains.” Hermione mused, holding on to his shoulder as they made it to the fourth floor.

Severus arched his left brow at her as they made it to her room. “Now, I will return after I help clean up some of the mess, do not stay up for me, I will come to you when I am done.”

“You know I will wait up for you,” Hermione answered, the door opening for her. Medusa was finished decorating and now sleeping with an entire gallery of decorated stone men. 

He sighed, letting her go.“Because you are a stubborn witch.”

“Maybe.” Hermione teased, watching him walk away before she let the door close.

“Mrow.” Crookshanks leaped on to the back of Severus’s chair.

Hermione dropped her shoes on the floor, picking her great beast up in her arms. “You would not believe the night I have had. I loved every minute of it.”

Crookshanks purred and got fur all over her dress before shifting and rolling to be put down.

Hermione saw three letters on her desk, but she wanted to shower before she did anything. She’d need Queenie’s help too, to get out of the dress.

* * *

**Professor Hermione J. Granger,**

**The hearing in the Ministry’s case against Ronald Bilius Weasley for his attempted murder on you is scheduled for July 23rd. As the victim, in this case, you will be asked to testify. We ask that you have all evidence submitted to us through your representation, identified as Barrister Greengrass. As per your request, there will be no admittance of the press in any format in this hearing, and no witnesses will be permitted to speak about it until the case is settled.**

**We will have all persons scanned for curses by ministry officials.**

**Harry J. Potter**

**Head Auror**

**Ministry of Magic**

**PS: I have asked the Minister to personally assign a judge to this case known to be fair and unbiased. You will not suffer as you did in your divorce hearing.**

* * *

  
  


**Professor Hermione Jean Granger**

**You are required to attend the hearing in the matter of the death of the Vampires, Darcy Harkness, and his spouse Marietta Harkness, on the seventeen of August at the Ministry of Magic. You are required to have representation at this time for the case. Please bring all evidence and witness statements at that time.**

**Bryce Hacklebjorn**

**Clerk of Courts**

**Ministry of Magic**

  
  


* * *

**Mimi,**

**I hope this letter finds you well and healthy. It was tough to figure out how to send you a message to the address you left at the office, but I managed it with the help of this strange lady down the lane. You might remember her, the woman with all the big weird looking cats who always dressed as she belonged in a Willy Wonka film. Well, her name is Beatrice, and she knew right how to address the letter and even is going to take it to the office for me to make sure it gets there.**

**I wanted to see how the glasses were working out for you and remind you that you need to follow up with dad to make sure they are the right strength.**

**Also, all business aside, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come around for tea. Mum really wants to see you, and I would love to catch up with you and see what you’ve been doing these last few years. I know you are likely way too busy, but it was good to see your face, and I don’t want it to be another 8 or so years before I do again.**

**All my love and all of Mum and Dad’s love,**

**Lucy Sorgfalt**

* * *

While the first two letters brought down her mood, the last brought it back up.

With everything going on, she’d forgotten to go back to get her eyes rechecked and to see Lucy.

She would have to send her a letter back telling her that she’d come during the summer.

Hermione thought about doing it now, but her legs protested doing anything but lying in bed.

Climbing into her side of the bed, she didn’t even bother to think about reading.

She watched the door to the bedroom, waiting for Severus to come to bed.

Somewhere along with the wait, she blinked and fell asleep.

* * *

The train was filling with students who were hugging and saying their farewells.

It was the last day of school, and everyone was at the train station.

Hermione hugged a few of her students as they left.

“Now, don’t forget, your holiday homework is to take in as much muggle culture as you can!” Hermione exclaimed, clapping her hands.

Velma Jenkins, one of her best students, pouted as she hugged her. “But, you won’t even be our Muggle Studies Professor next year?”

“I will still be here, and I expect you to be well-rounded individuals when you come back!” Hermione grinned, taking a step back.

Velma leaned in and whispered to her. “Bye, Professor Granger, thank you for making it feel more like home this year.”

Hermione felt her heart climb into her chest, and she gave the young Hufflepuff another squeeze. “You are welcome, now go before you miss the train. And I expect to hear that you get the summer job at the Ministry. You worked hard on those OWLS, and I know you will pass.”

“I will write to you when I do. Have a safe summer. Bye, Professor.” Miss Jenkins said, scurrying off to the trains.

Hermione waved her arm above her head at the train. Many students stuck their heads out and waved back at her.

Suddenly, there were lips by her ear and an imposing presence around her. Hermione could smell the oud wood, and the hint of her body wash.

“You are like the small, more talkative version of Hagrid,” Severus whispered, standing right behind her.

Hermione barely moved her lips as she whispered back to him. “I am not crying as they leave.”

Severus came to her side, raising an eyebrow at the train as it began to pull out of the station. “I will grant you that. If you are done sending them off, we have some things to do before we go home.”

Hermione froze mid-wave, her eyes turning to him. Her stomach fluttered at the words and how they sounded out of his mouth.

Severus shook his head and stuttered out a recant. “I mean, to _my_ home.”

“I liked it the other way,” Hermione said, turning and grasping his hand.

He looked at their hands then around them. Hermione wondered if, for a moment, he was going to ask her to let go, but he seemed to give a sigh of resignation and start walking with her. “There is something wrong with you, Granger.”

“You tell me all the time.” She teased back.

Severus squeezed her hand three times.

  
  


* * *

The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with excitement. Everyone seemed ready to get this last bit of school year formality done to embark on their summer plans. Hermione had taken a seat next to Neville, looking over his collection of paint colors he was thinking about for his bathroom. Severus was standing behind her chair, leaning against the wall.

Hermione was only half listening to Neville when Minerva stood, getting everyone’s attention.

“Another year is done and not without its fair share of excitement. I dare say that I hope next year is calmer. All students have been confirmed out of the castle. I want to thank all of you for your diligence and hard work this year. We have only a few things to go over before we can end the year and spend the next three months in peace. First, I want to note that Argus will be here over the summer, so that should anyone need to return for research or preparation purposes, you are welcome too, provided you let him know you are here. Secondly, we will be having a meeting a week before the start of term, and I expect everyone to be here for it. I also believe that Severus has a few points, so I will allow him to explain.” Minerva said, gesturing to the man behind her chair.

Hermione felt his hand rest on the back of her chair. She looked up at him, seeing a grim expression on his face. “You all will be receiving materials on identifying certain behaviors for students at risk. I expect you to know them by the time you return and to be able to identify those behaviors. For too long have we let students slip through the cracks here at Hogwarts, which will end with this year. Any students you suspect are suffering from any of the signs you will have listed are advised to seek out the Headmistress or me to further investigate. If you have any questions, you may ask them when we return from the holidays. And as per my usual request, I do not wish owls regarding school matters during this break unless it is an absolute emergency. I have a very full schedule this summer and do not wish to be burdened with the inane. Both Hagrid and Argus are here to let you into the building.”

“Severus, what makes this summer so busy for you?” Sinistra asked, and Hermione watched him fix her with a scowl.

“Personal and Professional matters, which do not pertain to this school. Now, Minerva, did you have anything else.” Severus said, directing the attention back to the Headmistress.

“Septima has an announcement to make.” Minerva offered.

The stern-looking woman stood, inclining her head. “Many of you know that I have announced that I planned to retire this year. However, after careful consideration and consulting with my husband, we have decided that it was prudent to finish out my 65th year and have the full status that proves my family and me. I know that this affects others, as Hermione was meant to take my place, and I did consider it before I made this decision. I will be returning next year and finishing out with that as my last year.”

  
  


Hermione took in a breath, her shoulders rounding up as she met Minerva’s eyes. Minerva seemed resigned, pinching her nose. “While that is well within your rights, I had hoped that you would make this decision before the very last moment.”

“What does that mean for me, Minerva?’ Hermione asked hesitantly. All of her plans for the next year we now up in the air. They had hired a new muggle studies professor, whom Hermione liked very much, and now Vector was not leaving.

_Where would she be? Would she not be here at Hogwarts?..._

Minerva offered her a comforting smile. “That means, Hermione, that we will be making arrangements for you to stay on in another capacity.”

Irma stood, looking between them. “Headmistress, If I may, Hermione would be perhaps able to stay on as an assistant to me in the library or lead the study halls as she did at the end of the term.”

“Or as an assistant to me,” Filius said, offering up his opinion.

Hermione felt touched that they would jump to help her.

Minerva waved them down with her hand. She looked tired already. “Yes, yes, we will figure that, Severus and I, but for now, if there are no other announcements, then I shall leave you all to your summer holidays.”

  
  
  


No one said anything, and everyone began to get up and leave the room. Hermione stayed in her seat, Minerva giving her a look that said she wanted to speak with her. 

Neville got to his feet and bent to hug her. “Don’t worry, Hermione, you know this place won’t let you go anywhere. And don’t forget, you need to come to see us. You too, Severus, if you fancy it.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Longbottom,” Severus said without giving him a yes or no. 

Hermione could hear the frustration in his voice, and Neville made himself scarce. 

  
  
  


It did not take long for the room to clear out, and Minerva crossed the room. “I was afraid that was going to happen.”

“Indeed. So now?” Severus questioned, shifting from behind the chair to Hermione’s left side.

Minerva gave him a weak smile. “Now, you two go on and do whatever it is you have planned, and I will see you in a few weeks with our options.”

“Do try to relax, Minerva.” Severus sighed, inclining his head to her.

Minerva made a noise that sounded like an amused snort. “I plan on tucking into my chesterfield, with a glass of Ogden’s, a book with my feet up and not moving for a while. Have a good summer.”

“You too, Minerva. I will see you later.” Severus said, offering his hand to Hermione.

Hermione took his hand and then looked to Minerva, reaching out for a hug. The older woman pulled her into a tight embrace, and Hermione let out a breath, squeezing her.

Minerva drew back and squeezed her arms. “Hermione, I want you to take care of this stubborn man; he doesn’t do himself any good over the summer and comes back looking like he’s not eaten or slept the whole time.”

“Minerva, I do not need to be taken care of.” Severus rolled his eyes, moving to stand by the door.

Minerva turned on him, pointing her finger. “And you, take care of her, I expect it will be an interesting summer for you both.”

“Goodbye, Minerva.” Severus dismissed, holding the door open for her. Minerva smirked and shook her head as she walked out of the door.

  
  


Hermione moved to Severus when the door shut, unable to conceal her worry. “If Septima is staying, will I lose my post here?”

“Not if Minerva and I can avoid it. I may just be that you spend a year in the library.” Severus explained. “Do you have anything you need to pack before we leave?”

Hermione pat the beaded back on her hip. “I am like a turtle, my life on my person at all times. I just need to grab Crookshanks.”

“Ah, yes, he shall have great fun getting into things.” Severus mused, holding the door open to her now.

His tone of voice made Hermione frown as she walked past him. “Do you not want me to bring him.”

“I would not ask you to leave your pet behind. I just know that Crookshanks will get into the garden, and we will have a mess to clean.” He explained as they walked toward the dungeons.

“Gnomes in the garden?” Hermione asked him curiously, not thinking that Severus would allow such a thing.

Severus shook his head at her. “No, mice.”

“He’s a terrible hunter.” Hermione offered. Crookshanks was more content to hunt a bowl of food and nap than to chase critters.

“Doubtful, he’s just not had a need, you feed him well,” Severus explained.

Hermione followed him to his rooms, trying to not show the nerves that were slowly taking hold of her.

Some of it was from the uncertainty of her job. Now that things were not going as planned and the others because this would be new territory for them. Hermione had no idea what he was like outside of this building, and while she wasn’t afraid, it didn’t mean her stomach couldn’t be a touch anxious.

It did not take him long to pack at all, and then she was jumping through her floo to rouse Crookshanks from his nap.

With her beloved feline in one arm and Severus’s hand in hers, she stepped into the floo with him.

Hermione watched him dropped the powder, clearly speaking. “ _Spinners End._ ”

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, it said that Vector had only taught for 19 years, because when I am tired I am bad at math. But it should be 64 years and the next year would be her 65th.


	58. Start of a New Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He took the step out of the fireplace first, being affronted by the smell of air that had not been disturbed since last summer’s end.

He held her hand tightly as she wobbled into the living room, her cat obviously displeased with the travel.

“Welcome to my home,” Severus said, flicking his wand so that the windows opened allowed for fresh air. “I am sorry if it seems unused, I am not accustomed to having anyone here by myself.”

Severus was nervous about having her here.

It was an old kind of worried he felt when he was young when anyone asked where he lived.

While it was his, this house was a source of shame for many years in his life.

While nowhere near as bad as it had been when his parents lived in poverty due to his father’s drinking habit, it was still likely not anything she was used to.

Stealing a glance at her, he saw that her eyes were wide, looking around the room. “You have so many books. More than I do.” She breathed out.

“I had to turn this room into a library to hold my collection. You are welcome to read anything here, as long as you take care, some of them are old.” Severus said, letting her hand go. He heard her drop her great ginger beast on the floor as she moved to the shelves, her fingers tracing reverently over the tomes.

“Would you like me to leave you here, or would you like a tour of the rest of the house,” Severus asked her, watching how enthralled she was by the library.

Hermione turned to him and gave him a bashful smile. “I’d like to see the rest of the house, I am sure I have all summer to admire this room.”

Severus nodded to her, his stomach tying in uncomfortable knots.

He turned to walk out of the room, knowing she would follow.

“This is the kitchen, as you can tell. You are welcome to cook if you like, or I can. Tonight we will order in, as the kitchen is not stocked in anything but nonperishables.” Severus said, his eyes flicking over the counter that had collected dust. While he would typically deal with it later, he flicked his wand, setting the room to cleaning itself.

“I don’t mind cooking. I am not an expert, but I can cook.” Hermione offered, and he smiled at her.

He turned down the hall toward the stairs that took them to the second floor. “Mind your step, some of them are wobbly, but I never thought to fix them, as I know where to step. I will have to do so this summer.” 

He opened the door to his left on the second floor, showing her a room that he hardly used. “This room can be used by you if you’d like to have your own space at any time. I have no issue making it an office or the like for you.”

Hermione seemed confused, shaking her head at him. “Severus, you don’t have to do that. It’s your house.”

“It is my house, and I will do so if you want it.” He said, moving to open the door at the end of the hall. “This is the lavatory, you may move whatever you need to accommodate your toiletries; I just ask that you don't let your hair clog the tub. We don’t have the marvels of Hogwart’s plumbing, and I dread to think of what your curly hair can do to this plumbing.”

She peered around him into the room and nodded. “I can do that. My hair tends to destroy most muggle plumbing.”

“I can only imagine,” Severus replied, trying to quell his nerves still. He was waiting for her to say something about his house, or how she thought she might like to go back to Hogwarts. There was no way that she’d want to stay here, and Severus was berating himself thinking it. While this was suitable for his needs, this was not someplace she should be subjected to.

Severus swallowed back the nerves and opened the door to the right. “This is my bedroom, and of course, you are welcome, but not expected to sleep with me here. I can make room for some clothing if you wish.”

“Severus, do you not want me here?” Hermione asked, placing her hand on his arm.

He turned to her, dropping his head. “Of course, I want you here. Do you want to be here?”

“Yes, with you. But you seem distant all of a sudden. Have I done something wrong? Do you need me to take off my shoes or something?” Her eyes were warm and beckoning.

Severus shook his head, his fingers coming to rub his temples. “I- my home is not as grand as Potters, or the home I suspect you owned or any of the other homes you may have stayed at, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Do you think that matters to me?” Hermione asked, tilting her head at him.

He looked for answers in her eyes without reaching. “Does it?”

“No, not at all. I think it’s charming. A little dusty and definitely suited to occasional use, but charming.” Hermione explained with a soft smile.

Severus couldn’t believe that she would think that about this slightly falling apart house.“You do not need to lie to me, Hermione.”

Hermione put her hand on her hip, and Severus knew that a speech was coming. “I am not. I like the kitchen wallpaper, but I wonder what color it is under the years of dirt and dust. The tub looks like it would be amazing for a soak, and your room looks cozy enough for the two of us. Did you think I was going to leave because your house isn’t as nice as Harry’s?”

“A bit foolish of me, I suppose,” Severus admitted, shaking his head.

Hermione slid closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “More than a bit.”

Severus wrapped her into an embrace. He placed a kiss on her forehead as he took a deep breath.

Severus couldn’t believe that she was saying she’d want to stay after seeing it, but he knew better than to push the issue.

If Hermione was willing to stay here with him, he would make sure that he made improvements to make it more livable for her.

“I am happy that you asked me to come here.” Hermione murmured against his chest.

Severus closed his eyes, breathing in her scent and taking those words to heart. “I am happy you want to be here.”

“I do. I love you, the idea of not being here with you is unacceptable.” Hermione said, drawing back from him. “Now, what is up those stairs there?” She pointed to the second set of stairs.

“I turned my attic into a study. It has my desk, and many of my research notes. I do ask you don’t use those stairs until I repair them. They are worse than the first.”

“No potions lab?” Hermione teased him.

Severus shook his head, leaning against his bedroom door. “No potions are brewed in this house. My garden has an old world war two bunker that has been turned into one. Fewer chances of accidents.”

Hermione looked impressed, and Severus smiled, the nagging sensation of shame still there but smaller.

He couldn’t get the nagging feeling that she was going to turn heel and floo to Hogwarts out of his head, but he would take her at her word at this moment.

“Would you like me to leave you to unpack?” Severus asked her, and Hermione shook her head.

Her fingers were on her bag, her eyes on the floor. “Please do not be- insulted, that I don’t feel ready for that.”

“I do understand that. Come, let me show you the garden, and we can have some tea.” Severus said, concealing the worry of her up and running as he moved to go downstairs. 

Severus knew he shouldn’t be surprised, she’d still not unpacked at Hogwarts, but he wanted to offer her the chance.

He didn’t want her to feel like a guest in his home; he wanted her to feel comfortable and have whatever she needed.

Hermione followed him down the stairs, and it was instinct that he stabilized her before she took them both down the stairs in a tumble.

His first order of business would be to fix those stairs. He would not have her breaking her neck between the kitchen and the lavatory.

Severus walked down and around the stairs to the back door, which led to the rear garden. He opened the door and frowned, as his many of his plants needed trimming and care. He left them being watered automatically, but they always went a bit wild without his supervision.

“It will look better out here once I get the garden back in order. You will find many plants you recognize out here, but mostly, the muggle variants.” Severus explained as he let her out into the space. It wasn’t massive, but it had suited him for years. 

Hermione followed him out and looked around. “I would be happy to help. I had a garden at my house. I tended a lot of herbs and needed ingredients.”

Severus reached out for her hand. “I would always welcome your help.”

She squeezed his hand.

Severus pulled Hermione to him, leaning down to press his lips against hers softly. Hermione was eager to return the gesture, slipping her arms around his shoulders and pressing firmly against him. Her touch eased most of the tension in him, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want you to feel happy and safe here. If I can do anything to make that so, let me know. You have no rules or worries; you may do as you wish. Within the reason of not hurting either of us in the process.”

Her dark honey eyes seemed to deepen. “Severus, you don’t have to do anything for me. I’m just happy to be with you.”

“Be that as it may, I want you to know that those are my intentions for you here,” Severus whispered, running a hand down her back.

Hermione nodded against him. “Alright.”

“To the left are the Richardsons, quiet, nice, and don’t bother me much. Mrs. Richardson is a painter, and her husband does- something. She keeps trying to talk me into letting her paint the house. She will bring by food on occasion because I think she thinks I don’t eat well.” Severus explained, point to the terraced house on the side.

The Richardson’s were the most tolerable of his neighbors, and Severus wanted Hermione to know about who was living around them. If nothing else so that a suspicious character could not walk between the back gates and convince her they belonged here.

“She sounds interesting.” Hermione chuckled, and he sensed her fingers running over his spine.

“To the right are the Vanders. Incredibly odd muggles. They have an adult son who lives with them; he will likely be out here in the late hours smoking and in general being a nuisance. He knows better than to bother me, but he may try to talk to you. If he bothers you and you do not wish to speak to him, I will take care of it.” Severus explained to her. 

The Vanders had been there since before Severus was born. The adult son was Brandon, a leech who spent most of his life being a bully. He’d been one of Severus’s bullies long ago, but he had proven to the man that he was not to be messed with in his later years. He would not have Brandon bothering Hermione.

“You mentioned tea?” Hermione said, pulling him from his thoughts.

He nodded, straightening, and guiding her toward the door. “I did. It is the only thing that there will be an abundance of at this time. I plan on going to the shops tomorrow, and we can pick out whatever you want or need to eat in addition to what I normally stock up on. And food for your Kneazel.”

Severus could see the cat already tucked into his library window, soaking in the sun while snoozing with his face against the glass.

It would take some getting used to for there to be a cat around the house, but he didn’t think it would be too bad.

“I would like to go with you to the shops,” Hermione said as he walked through the house and into the kitchen.

Severus nodded. “That would be nice.”

Severus went right to the kettle, filling it with water and checking the stove to ensure that the gas was on. When it flicked to life, he placed the old metal kettle on it and opened the cupboard. Pulling down two cups, he unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up to wash them. They had sat for too long, and he didn’t want to risk serving in dirty cups. 

Once that was done, Severus got out the tea. He glanced at Hermione, who had slipped back into the library and looked over his books again. Somehow, it looked right for her to be there, even when he was so accustomed to being in his home alone. His nerves were all about how she did not wish to be here, not about her actually being in his childhood home.

“Would you mind watching the kettle while I go upstairs and change. I do not wear my school robes when I am at home.” Severus asked her, and Hermione jerked her head his direction.

Her expression was one of confusion and amusement, and he tilted his head at her. 

Hermione asked as she walked into the kitchen. “You wear something other than those robes.”

“I do, at least when I am home. You will find that it is much warmer in this house in the summer. It has old insulation.” Severus said to her before leaving to go upstairs.

  
  


Severus stood in his room for several moments, wrestling the last remnant of his concerns into submission.

Hermione wanted to be here, she said as much, and he didn’t want old insecurities to be why she left.

He didn’t realize he felt so much shame about this house until now, with her.

He didn’t like it.

Stripping off his robes, Severus pulled on a pair of his tan cargo pants and a plain black teeshirt. It was like shedding his skin, replacing his battle armor with something meant for ease and relaxation. Severus had a much busier summer this year, but he was still going to do his best to enjoy the comforts he’d come to appreciate over the last few years. He did not put his shoes back on unless he was going outside; there was no need for them. It was easier to feel the movement and flex of the house without them.

When he came down the stairs, Hermione stopped and stared at him, her mouth agape.

“Is there a problem?” Severus asked.

Hermione shook her head vigorously and turned back to the kettle. “No, haven't seen you so casual. Not since- well when you were healing, and even then, it was not that.”

“Does it bother you?” Severus slipped around her to measure the hot water over his tea.

Hermione looked pink. “No, opposite, actually.”

Severus leaned over her shoulder, placing a kiss where her blush stopped before her ear. “So, you like it.”

“Very much so,” Hermione said, pouring her own tea.

“Good. Because this is what I wear when I am home.” Severus hummed before leaning back, walking to the table.

  
  
  


Severus waited for her to join him. She seemed to be mulling over something at the stove, and he let her have space to herself. It wasn’t long before she sat across from him at the table, a grin on her lips.

“So, what is so busy this summer?” Hermione asked, her hands wrapped around her cup.

Severus took in a deep breath and sighed. “Lucius and I will be training Aurors on how to fly twice a week. And I have Healer Shade’s research to look over and review, and I planned on spending as much of my free time with you. Not to mention the business with the courts.”

“So, you won’t be here for two days a week?” Her voice was worried, and her brow knit together. 

Severus reached across the table for her hand. “Only for a few hours, I’m sure you will hardly notice if I leave you with my library.”

That seemed to cheer her mood, her lips curving in a smile. “Probably.”

Severus had no doubt that she was going to dive into those books like they were water to a dehydrated man.

He wasn’t concerned about leaving her here in the slightest. It was the safest place Severus knew besides Hogwarts.

Just because it was in disrepair did not mean he did not have incredible wards on the area.

  
  
  


Severus took a drink of his tea and savored it for a moment before asking her a question that he’d been curious about. “Do you have anything you wanted or needed to do this summer?” 

Hermione was in the middle of drinking from her cup when he asked, and she nodded, swallowing it quickly. He hadn’t meant to rush her, but it seemed she wanted to talk about it rather than enjoy her tea. “I have an appointment in a few days to see- Healer Shade’s sister,” Hermione said timidly.

Severus let a small smile fix itself on his face. “Good, I am happy to hear that.”

Hermione then began to list off the many things she wanted to. “And I want to see Lucy and Doc, and I want to see Harry and Gin and visit with a few of my friends. I also need to figure out what I am going to do with- that house. And the courts.” Her voice seemed to wane as she spoke about the two cases they were currently both involved in.

Severus didn’t know who two of the people she spoke about were, but he assumed they were either muggle friends or people she’d met in her work that was not from Hogwarts or from before his time.

Her face seemed to drop still, and her eyes were flickering like she was thinking of something unpleasant.

“Do not worry about the courts, it will be fine. As for that house, if you need help, I am certain we can find someone to do so.” Severus tried to support her and make it so that she did not feel like she had to do it alone.

Hermione shrugged, taking another drink of her tea before speaking. “I don’t know what I want to do with it. I mean, besides burn it to the ground. I don’t know if I want to sell it, because what if someone lives there and all that bad energy affects them.”

“You have time to think about it.” Severus offered to her, understanding her hesitation.

It was part of the reason that he had never sold this house. The ghosts that lived in these walls were his, and he didn’t think he would want someone else to be exposed.

  
  


Hermione looked around the room and gave him an impish smile. “I know. I also think I am going to clean this house top to bottom.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Severus groaned. He didn’t think the house was that dirty, but if she wanted to deep clean it, it had to be worse than he thought it was.

Hermione seemed to be goaded by his protest. “What if I want to do it?”

“Then, by all means, be my guest, but it’s not something you have to do.” He surrendered, knowing the look in her eyes as something she would do with or without his permission.

Her eyes skimmed around the room, and he tried to follow them, wondering what she saw in the prospect of cleaning it. “It might give me something to do while you are working. Do you have any ground rules for me or things you don’t want me to touch.”

Severus set the teacup down, clasping his hands in front of him.

She had brought up an important question, and he needed to make sure that they both understood where each other stood on things.

“My ground rules are fairly simple. Don’t break anything that I have to fix, don’t clog the tub, and don’t invite anyone here without telling me first. While I will imagine you will want to have people come to see you, I am not- I like the fact that I am not obligated to see anyone for three months. And do not clean my study or my lab.” Severus explained. He had no desire to come home to find that someone he had been working on was displaced or ruined.

“I can agree to those.” She nodded, mirroring his position at the table.

Severus leaned forward, imploring honesty from her. “And anything I need to know about living with you? That I do not already?”

Her eyes shifted around a bit as if she were thinking very hard. She bit her lips and let out a sigh before looking at Severus again. “Well- I hate clutter and mess. I really hate it when things are left dirty when it is easier to simply wash it and be done with it. And I don’t like the smell of vinegar.”

It was going to be easier to live with her than he expected.

He, too, did not like a mess, nor did he like for things to be ignored when they could simply be done and over with.

The fact that she had those same values meant that to him, she would be a perfect living companion after all.

“Dare I ask why you don’t like vinegar?” Severus was curious.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the mention of it. “Bothers my nose. And Ron used to use it to clean his quidditch memorabilia, and it never sat right with me.”

“I think I can keep from using it in the house. How did you manage in potions? It is common in many potions.”

Hermione took another drink of her tea. “Grin, bear it, and move on. It wasn’t as bad in school as it is now.” 

He nodded, finishing his tea.

“I am going to work on fixing the stairs before you get hurt, so I suggest you go find yourself a book. When you get hungry, we can order some carry-out.” Severus said, stretching his arms out and above his head.

Hermione was up before him and took his teacup from his hand, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I will take care of cleaning the dishes then if you are going to fix the stairs. Before I start devouring your library.”

Severus looked at her with awe as she went to the sink.

He thought he could get used to this rather quickly.

  
  



	59. Domestic Bliss and Fiery Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione

Hermione meant it when she told Severus she thought the house was charming.

She’d always had a fondness for older homes. They had character and unique features about them. This house had a distinctive smell. It was old books and wood and the faint smell of settled dust. The last of the scents she knew would be gone soon enough.

Hermione stood in the kitchen at the sink, washing their teacups and looking out the garden window. Hermione could see several plants she recognized, and some she'd grown in her own garden. It needed a lot of work, but she almost looked forward to the job.

Placing the cups in the dish rack, she looked around the kitchen. It was outdated, with yellowed counters and drawers that had loose handles. The wallpaper had greyish fleur de lis that she was sure were not grey.

If Severus was going to be so kind as to let her be his house guest, she would do her best to leave his house in better condition than when she came.

  
  


Hermione heard Severus swear from the hallway, and she stepped out into it, seeing him test a step with his barefoot. It rolled a bit, and he flicked his wand, stabilizing it.

Seeing him in muggle clothes made her breath catch again. It was such a contrast to the buttoned-in look that he wore at Hogwarts. Like this, he looked more relaxed and approachable. It was the same way he looked when they were together at night, and Hermione liked it a lot.

  
  
  


“Do you want some help?” She asked him.

Severus shook his head. “No, go on and make yourself comfortable.”

Sighing at his stubbornness, Hermione walked into the library. The fact that this was once a sitting room was impossible to tell, as every available surface was overwhelmed with literature. Hermione thought she had a big collection, but Severus’s dwarfed hers by nearly double. The room smelt like old books and fresh parchment. She had an irresistible need to run her fingers over the ancient tomes' spines, cataloging titles for a growing reading list.

Runes and Ones: Ancient Runes and Arithmancy… 

Empires of the Mind: Occlumency’s Greatest Secrets… 

Witches of Bone: Tales of Olde Magick… 

Dragons of Old: Extinct Breeds… 

Servants of Stone: Golems and Guardians… 

Sleeping Curses and Cures… 

Ancient Madness: Protecting the Mind from Curses of Yore… 

Forsaken Bite: Werewolves Curse or Disease…

Snow Whyte: The Vampire Queen of Germany...

  
  


What didn’t Severus have books on? 

Hermione was amazed as she circled the room, unsure of where to even start. Since Hermione was not a fan of indecision, she grabbed the first one she’d seen of interest. Runes and Ones: Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. It was a thick book, with black leather binding. Tucking herself into the chair by the window, she kicked her shoes off, pulling her feet up underneath her. Orange fur caught her eye, and Hermione turned to see Crookshanks standing and stretching with a wide yawn. The cat leaped from his perch in the windowsill to the chair she was in, pressing his head against the top of her head with a rolling purr.

“I am happy you like it here,” Hermione said, reaching up to scratch his ears as she opened the book.

Hermione stared at the first page, a sudden wash of uneasiness overcoming her. Septima’s announcement had disturbed all her plans for the coming year. While she believed Severus when he said that he and Minerva would figure it out, she still didn’t like it up in the air. Hermione loved teaching Muggle Studies, but it didn’t have Arithmancy's challenge or evoke such a passion in her. The idea of teaching neither was not promising.

And what if for all their planning, they couldn’t get it approved by the board? What would she do then? Would she be able to stay with Severus at the castle? No one else had their significant others at the castle. The idea of a year without him turned her stomach.

  
  
  


Hermione adjusted her glasses on her nose and tried to not think about it.

But the words weren’t sticking, and she found herself repeating the same sentences over and over.

She huffed and rubbed her forehead.

 _Think of something else…_ she told herself, trying to still her own nervous energy.

Unfortunately, her mind seemed intent on being cruel to her now as the upcoming trials sunk into her thoughts. 

The mere idea of going before a court made her feel flips in her gut. Last time had been enough for a lifetime. While she knew that the judge would not be the man she’d seen before, it didn’t mean it would be roses. Hermione didn’t want to face Ron again, either.

Flickers of his eyes from her flashback crossed her mind, and she wrapped her arm around herself. Crookshanks slid and draped himself over her shoulders now like a warm stole. It distracted her, and she leaned her face up against his flat purring face.

“Am I not giving you enough attention?” Hermione mused, petting him softly. Her familiar purred louder, and his paws shot out, curling his claws in and out in contentment.

  
  
  


Hermione chuckled, reaching out and tickling his toes.“You really like it here, hmm? I suppose it is better than when I left you with Harry and his kids.”

“I think anything might be better than being left to the Potter children?” Severus interrupted her, startling her.

She looked up to see him watching her from the hallway, a soft smile on his lips. Hermione returned his smile, closing the book in her lap. “Are you done?”

“I am, you shouldn’t have issues with the stairs now. Dare I ask what book caught you first.” He gestured to the tome in her lap.

Hermione held it up with one hand, showing him the cover. “Runes and Ones. But- I’m having a hard time reading.”

Severus stepped across the room to her, eyebrow raised and a tug of amusement at his mouth's corner. “With your great beast on your shoulders, I can imagine.”

She considered for a moment if she should tell him the real reason she couldn’t focus. About the genuine fear that she had about her future now. Something in her spurred her on, urging her to tell him. “No, it’s not that. I am worried about what is going to happen if I don’t have a place at Hogwarts next year.”

Severus looked down at her with an uneasy expression. “Hermione, that will not be an issue. And if for some reason you do not have a position there, you and I will figure something out.”

“I don’t exactly want to be away from you for a whole year.” She admitted before she thought about the words coming from her lips. 

His lips quirked up at the edges. “You’ve not spent the summer with me yet, who knows, I could have you begging for the break by September.”

“I doubt it.” She shook her head. 

He offered her a shrug, sitting in the other chair in the room. “Then why worry about it now.”

“Because it is easier to worry about than the hearings coming up,” Hermione explained. 

Hermione watched his face pinch in frustration before he leaned forward, breathing deeply as he looked her over. It was as if he was inspecting her face for something. A sinking sensation took over her chest as the idea that she had somehow disappointed him took reign.

“What can I do right now to ease your mind of any of that?” Severus finally asked in a low rumble.

It wasn’t what she expected from him, and it took her a moment to shake the words from her lips. “I’m not sure.”

Severus stood, holding his hand out to her. “Would some food help? It would be an early supper, but since we’ve not eaten since breakfast, it might cheer you.”

It had been hours since they’d eaten, and perhaps, going outside might clear her head. At this rate, she was desperate for any sort of distraction. She took his hand, letting him lift her to her feet. “I admit, I am a bit hungry.”

Crookshanks did not seem amused that Hermione had let him flop into the chair.

“There is a fish and chips place not far from here; it is usually what I get my first night back.” Severus extended the option, and Hermione giggled. 

“Sounds fine to me.” The idea of him in muggle clothes, enjoying fish and chips like a regular person was too much. Perhaps many of her illusions of how he spent his free time were wrong.

When she was in school, she imagined he never left and did not do anything but stalk empty halls. But now, he could have been someone she’d meet on the street and never know that he was Severus Snape. She then realized that his dark mark was not visible, even though he was in a short-sleeved shirt. Had to have been a glamour, because she knew it was still there. 

His appearance reminded her that she would stand out if she walked the streets. She’d not changed from her robes that she’d sent the children off with. Hermione didn’t really want to draw attention or embarrass him. 

“I’d like to change first.” She asked him with a smile, looking to the stairs that he’d just finished repairing.

He seemed to appraise her outfit then, nodding. “I was wondering why you’d decided to remain in your robes.”

“Didn’t want to chance the stairs until you finished.” It was a half honest answer, the other part being that she hadn’t really thought about it. 

Severus let her hand go, walking over toward the door. “Very well, up you go, I shall wait for you.”

Hermione watched as he picked up a pair of brown leather shoes and went to sit down. “I won’t be long.”

  
  


Ascending the stairs, Hermione noticed the difference in them. They were stable, and she didn’t feel like she would lose her footing at any moment. Slipping into the bathroom, she smiled at how much of a blank canvas it was. Severus has black towels, which were the only color in the room, aside from faucets. The tub was an old cast iron clawfoot with a shower curtain and shower head seemingly retrofitted. The walls were old whitish tile halfway up the wall and then paint that had seen better days. 

She passed a glance at the oval mirror, catching her reflection. Hermione had come to terms with her reflection, at least of her face. After the first day that she was able to see herself, it didn’t hurt as much. It honestly felt like she’d let apart of herself back in.

But Hermione had no desire to see herself without clothing. Sidestepping, she stripped of her robes and pulled clothing from her beaded bag. Hermione slid on a pair of jeans and drew a long-sleeved yellow shirt over her head. She didn’t want to have to glamour her wrist like Severus. The pants didn’t fit her like they used to, so she had to pull out a belt. 

Hermione still wasn’t back to the weight that she’d been at her healthiest, but in the last six months, she’d noticed that everything was starting to fit better and not feel like it would slip off. Even her dueling robes seemed to set the way they were supposed to. It was Severus’s doing; the potion in her coffee helped her actually feel hungry in a way that she couldn’t ignore like she’d done before.

Pulling her brush out, Hermione ran it through her hair a few times, brandishing it like a weapon against the curls. When she was satisfied with it, she tucked everything back into her bag and pulled out a pair of trainers. Hermione pulled them on and headed downstairs, hoping she’d not made him wait too long.

  
  
  


When she reached the ground floor, she came across Severus, scratching Crookshanks behind the ear, shaking his head. She tried to not smirk at him because he and Crookshanks rarely interacted.

“He is rather insistent that he be petted,” Severus said, straightening up. “I thought it is still early, we could run to the shops first and get supper on the way home. Unless you are set on eating first, in which we can get it and eat it on the way to the shops.”

Hermione thought it over for a second, biting her lip. “It’s not a good idea to go shopping hungry.”

“No, it is not.” Severus agreed, heading to the door. “In that case, we will get it on the way.”

Severus tucked a wallet into his back pocket and slipped his wand into a seemingly hidden pocket in pants. Hermione’s jealousy over the abundance of pockets in his clothing rose again. She reached into her beaded bag and withdrew a purse, tucking her wand into it and making sure that the muggle money she’d gotten was there.

Looking at the bag that held all her worldly possession, she set it down on top of the book she’d been trying to read. She joined him at the door, and Severus led her out onto the street.

* * *

Dinner was not what she expected at all. Severus was surprisingly laid back as they walked along the sidewalks, eating their fish and chips out of newspaper cones. He told her local stories and history points while occasionally nodding at people that seemed to recognize him. Hermione felt at ease as she walked with him, feeling rightness settling the anxious feelings in her chest. It felt like this was something they did all the time, not like it was the first time. It befuddled and amazed her.

Even though Hermione thought she shouldn’t be, she was surprised that they shared a lot in common when it came to food. Hermione didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. It came from being the daughter of dentists and knowing first hand what copious amounts of sugar did to one’s teeth. Like her, Severus had a fondness for more savory foods. Much of what she would have wanted to get, he was already putting in the trolley.

He did make a face when she got coffee flavored chocolates, but she made a face back, putting it in the trolley next to Crookshanks' food.

At the cashier, Severus refused to let her pay for even part of it. No matter how much she protested, he gave her a single look and paid for it all. Hermione wanted to argue that it was only fair, but he’d made it evident that it was pointless. Hermione was adamant that he let her carry more of the groceries, however, as she wasn’t having him put his shoulder out again. He relented at that because she fixed him with a look of her own. The cashier seemed amused by them and waved them off with a ‘Goodbye Mr. Snape.”

“I’ve been going to that shop since I was a boy,” Severus admitted on the way back.

Hermione looked at him with a curious smile. “Is that why she knew who you were.”

“And why she would have boxed my ears if I let you pay for a thing.” He revealed, tilting his head at her as if she were the source of some issue.

Hermione sighed, adjusting the bag handles in her hand. “I was only fair, I mean, Crookshanks isn’t your cat, you should have let me pay for that at least.”

“Not happening.” Severus seemed amused at her.

She huffed as they turned down the street. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear anything if I pay for something for you. There has to be a balance to it.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Granger, the one who must balance the scales has arrived.” Severus teased her.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the light dwindling as the sunset. The buildings cast long shadows, and on the side streets, there was little light save those that came out of windows. Hermione could easily get lost with how the roads seemed to all look the same. She tucked in closer to him as they walked without really realizing it.

  
  


They turned down another street, and a woman turned to look at them, her face breaking into a smile.

‘Severus, is that you?” She asked, turning from her stoop to look at them approach.

Severus bowed his head slightly. “Yes, I just returned this morning.” 

The woman approached them. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that she was dressed rather colorfully, reminding her of Luna. But she had dark curly hair cut short and an oval-shaped face. Her eyes were bright blue, and she had a welcoming smile. 

Severus gestured between them in the introduction. “This is Hermione. Hermione, this is Zoraida Richardson, my neighbor.”

“A pleasure to meet you, dear. It is not often at all that Severus has friends around.”

Hermione put down some of the bags so that she could shake the woman’s hand. “I am sure. It is a pleasure to meet you as well; Severus said good things about you.”

“Did he now? That’s very sweet of him. It is nice to see you, Severus. Lue said he thought he heard you in the back garden earlier.” Mrs. Richardson offered, taking a step back.

Hermione picked the bags back up and watched as Severus smiled at her. “It is good to see you in good health. Hermione is staying with me for the summer, longer if it suits her.” 

That warm feeling crawled up her throat, and Hermione couldn’t help but beam at him like a lovesick fool. 

Mrs. Richardson looked between then and suddenly grinned with delight. “ _Oh,_ well then, I do hope that you like it here. I see you just came from the shop, so I won’t keep you. It is good to meet you, Hermenione.”

“ _Hermione_. I know it’s different. Nice to meet you too.” She said, following Severus as he walked up to the front of the house. Hermione tried to memorize where they were so that if she had to go on her own, she’d not end up in the wrong place.

The older woman hummed her way into the house next door as Severus unlocked the door for them to get inside.

  
  
  


The first order of business was, of course, putting away the food they’d bought. Crookshanks was running against her legs as she carried the bags into the kitchen, still happily purring.

“I haven't heard him purr this much in forever,” Hermione said, setting the bags on the counter.

Severus opened cabinets and began putting things away. “Perhaps he is just pleased with the change of scenery?”

“Maybe, he was stuck in Harry’s office and then in my rooms for a while.” Hermione thought aloud as she moved to help Severus, putting away the perishables in the fridge.

Severus yawned, stretching his shoulders back. It was contagious, and Hermione could not stop herself from following suit. “Stop that. It’s too early to be yawning.”

“Perhaps for you, but I have every intention of showering and going to bed early tonight,” Severus explained, tucking the cans up on shelves.

The idea of bed did sound nice; it’d been a long and somewhat emotional day. “I guess I could go to bed early tonight.”

“Hermione, you do not have to go to bed if you aren’t tired,” Severus said, pulling the cat dish that he’d gotten for Crookshanks and setting it on the counter.

Hermione shook her head, closing the fridge and reaching for the bag of food they’d gotten for him. “I know that, but I am tired. It just feels too early to be this tired.”

She poured the food into the bowl, and Severus took the bag from her hands, folding it over and tucking it under the sink.

That was when Hermione realized it.

They’d just put away several grocery bags in a small space and gotten Crooks’s food prepared in what felt like a fluid synchronized movement. 

Shaking her head, she set the bowl down. Her cat looked at it and then turned his face up to her as if he was protesting. “I know, Queenie spoiled you rotten, but you will go back to kibble, you’ve eaten it for years before,” Hermione said, shaking her hand at him.

Crookshanks turned away from her, flicking his tail and going into the library.

“I do believe he just told you how he feels about that arrangement.” Severus chuckled, and Hermione stood up, wrinkling her nose at him.

“None of that.” Severus slipped his arms around her waist, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer as Hermione kissed him back. All the warmth from before came surging back, melting and shifting into a desire more of his kisses. Hermione opened her mouth, drawing his bottom lip between hers as one of her hands slipped into his hair. A chuckle seemed to escape him against her lips, and she pulled back, smirking at him.

‘What is so funny?” She teased him.

Severus’s lips curled into a smile as he drew her back to him. “Nothing at all. I simply did not expect that you wanted me to kiss you senseless.”

“What made you think I do?” Hermione said, trying to school her face to not show that she wanted just that.

Severus rose an eyebrow and let her go, making to turn from her. “Well, in that case, I will go take my-”

Hermione grabbed him by his t-shirt and brought him into another kiss before he could get away. He didn’t seem at all unprepared, one of his hands curling around her waist, molding her to him as the other cupped her face. She kissed him with abandon, representing all the feelings that Severus brought to the surface with his touch. His tongue was exploring her mouth now as he leaned her back against the counter. Eyes closed, Hermione ran her fingers along the back of his neck as he deepened the kiss. Severus’s hands roamed over her back as he drew her tongue into his mouth. For a brief moment, she forgot where he ended, and she began.

Breathless, they parted, and his eyes were dark with passion.

Hermione was panting, her hands coming to rest on his chest. “ I love you.”

“I love you.” He breathed heavily, pecking her lips.

Hermione leaned into him, feeling lightheaded and content. Severus held her to his chest, both his arms wrapped around her. She could hear his heart pounding under her heart, as fast as hers was. His hand ran over her hair, and Hermione found a word for the feelings that Severus evoked in her. It wasn’t just safe; it wasn’t only content. He made her feel both wanted and loved.

She squeezed him, taking a deep breath. “I think we should go to bed.”

“Oh? Should I wait on my shower?” Severus whispered in her ear, making the desire in her gut coil up.

She nodded against him. “Yes, you should.”

He took a step back from her, grabbing her hand. She took her glasses off and set them on the counter.

Wordlessly, he flicked his wand, the sounds of windows closing, doors locking, and lights going out around them. Severus led her up the stairs, never letting her hand go. He pushed the bedroom door open, leading her in. Once it was closed, he turned and brought her close to him.

“The same thing applies here, Hermione. You have all the power.” Severus breathed against her ear in the darkened room.

Hermione nodded against him, slipping her hands under his shirt. “Touch me, _please_.”

He let out something that sounded like a growl, and he was pulling his shirt off. Hermione helped him, lifting the edges as he threw it away from him. As soon as the fabric was gone, his lips were on her, his hands pulling her toward him. Hermione ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, feeling as if there was electricity running back and forth between them.

He took a step back, pressing her against the door. Hermione gasped and sunk her hands into his hair.

“You are so beautiful.” She heard his breath in the dark as his lips trailed down her neck. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh as his tongue ran over the scars on her neck from the vampire bite. The desire in her stomach curled tighter, and she dug her fingers into his back and his hair. He was everywhere, all around her, his scent like a drug. 

Severus's hands ran up her sides over her shirt as he indulged her in his touch. Hermione hissed as his teeth ran over her collar bone. One hand cupped her breast, and she thought she would have fallen from the shudder of pleasure that ran through her if she wasn’t supported by him and the door.

“Severus.” She breathed, her hands grabbing to his shoulders.

The noise he made went right to her groin as he gripped her waist, pressing into her. 

It was a heady rush, Hermione’s body singing with his every touch. His right hand had her waist, holding her up and keeping her between him and the door, and the left was teasing her nipple now, making her lean her head back against the door.

He kissed farther down her body, separating them as he kissed over her left shirt covered breast. Hermione thought she would burst into flames with how warm she felt, sweat gathering at the back of her neck. 

Hermione felt something in her gut shift, and a wave of fire ran over her. His touch wasn’t enough, she wanted to feel him, she wanted more, and she wanted it right now.

“Wait, wait.” She breathed.

Severus drew back from her, panting, his hand coming to rest on the door above her shoulder. “Too much?”

“No, _not enough_.” She shook her head. 

Bravery and the fact that the room was so dark that she could barely see spurred her next movement. Hermione grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up over her head. It caught in her hair, and she had to give it a solid tug.

“Keep the lights off.” She begged, pulling it off her arm. 

Throwing it into the darkness, she tried to catch her breath. She grabbed the side of Severus's face in her hand, pulling him to the side of her head.

Severus was huffing her ear, his breathing ragged. “Are you sure?”

Hermione grabbed his hand on her hip, pulling it over her skin. “Same rules. Stop when I say.”

“Of course.” His voice was husky and deep. “Are you- ready?”

Hermione grabbed him, pulling him to her. 

She gasped against his lips, feeling him skin to skin for the first time. “Yes, please.”

His hands were all over her now, fingertips dragging over skin with a touch that made her weak. “I love you, Hermione.” He murmured into her shoulder, kissing her skin. Her name in his voice combed through her mind like a hymn.

Hermione ran her palms over his back, pulling him close to her. She kissed his temple, the side of his face, every place she could of him. 

She felt his hands move over her stomach, up her ribs. One hand cupped her over her bra, his thumb brushing against where her nipple strained against it. He was kissing his way down her chest, his lips leaving passion and fire in their wake.

Her knees started shaking as she held onto him, her head tipped back in a moan when he kissed the top of her breast. The knot in her stomach continued to writhe and tighten—Severus sunk to his knees before her, one hip as he kissed over her abdomen's skin.

“I love you.” He breathed again, his other hand squeezing her breast.

Hermione felt like she had a fever with how hot she felt, and she keened out to him. “I love you too, Severus.”

Severus seemed to be trying to kiss every inch of her skin, and Hermione could do nothing now but hold on to the door. Her whole body was trembling, and she could not remember anything. Everything was white noise except for his touch.

It became too much to stand, and Hermione sunk into him. Severus caught her, his hands running up her sides as he shifted his legs. 

She wasn’t sure how they got there, but Hermione was on top of him on the floor, his hands running over her back as they kissed. Everything in her sung his name as if he were the sole reason she lived and breathed. She moaned his name into his mouth as his hand slipped below her waist, grabbing her ass while the other pressed her into him.

Their edges blurred, and Hermione once again wasn’t sure that they were, in fact, not one complete being.

And then the queasy feeling in her stomach started. Hermione had been paying attention to what happened before it started to become painful, which was the first sign.

“Severus.” She whispered, and he pressed a kiss to her chin. Hermione wanted to cry, but she could already feel the hair on the back of her neck, starting to stand. “We have to stop.”

He stilled, lifting his hands from her. “Too much?”

“Almost. I don’t- I don’t want it to become too much. I want to bask in this.” Hermione said, breathing against his lips.

She felt him nod against her, his hands coming to rest on her back, not moving. 

“I am _so proud_ of you.” His voice was hoarse and ragged as he whispered to her. “I am so very proud of you, and I love you so much.”

Hermione felt tears start to well up as she felt the warmth in her beginning to wane, her forehead resting against his. She tried to conceal the tears from her voice. “I love you too.”

“Don’t cry, love, you did something big. You did _so wonderfully_ , I cannot express how proud of you I am.” He coaxed her, his hand coming to brush her hair from her face.

She knew he was right, but she wanted to be able to enjoy this without fear, and without everything going to shit.

Severus pressed a kiss to her forehead and drew her down to him. “My brave, brave Hermione.”

She sighed, pressing her face into his shoulder.

They lay there for several more minutes until the sensations receded, and she feared that she was putting too much weight on Severus. She slid off of him to the side, running her hands over her eyes.

“I am going to shower. You get in bed and comfortable, and I will be right back.” Severus said to her as he rose from the floor.

Hermione shifted out of the way as he opened the door.

“Hermione,” Severus called her name.

She looked toward him. “Hmm?”

“I have _never_ loved someone as much as I love you.” He whispered in the darkness. The door shut, leaving her with the sensation as his words sunk into her being. The guilt and the shame of not being able to be normal abated as his words filled her with something she didn’t have the words for.

Unknown to her or Severus, a golden thread between them tightened.

  
  



	60. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

It was the sunlight that roused him. Daylight, in his eyes, meant only one thing. 

Summer. 

In the cool, subterranean dungeons, sunlight never reached his quarters without being distorted and prismed by the black lake's green waters.

He shifted in the full-sized bed and felt a weight on him. Severus reached his hand down to find Hermione’s leg wrapped around his hip. He opened his eyes, covering his face against the light from the open curtain at first to adjust his eyes. 

Her face was relaxed, mouth opened in slumber as her hair shaded her from the morning light's brilliance. She was wrapped around Severus, her arm draped over his chest and the aforementioned leg keeping him close to her.

Severus’s lip curled up as he realized that it was his black t-shirt that she was sleeping in. She was still in her denim, which had to be dreadfully uncomfortable. Yet, they had fallen asleep without much consideration to anything else but each other and whispered professions of love in the dark.

_I am becoming sentimental…_ Severus thought with a sigh, tenderly slipping her arm off of him.

Hermione made a sound in her sleep like she was protesting.

He rolled to his back, cupping his hand under her knee and pushing it back enough so that he could get out of bed without rousing her. His bed here was smaller than the one at Hogwarts. He’d hadn’t ever needed more room in it, with it just being him. That might need to change if she made a choice to be a permanent addition to his life.

She protested some more, her mouth closing and lips pouting as he drew away from her.

Smirking to himself, Severus leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple. “There will be coffee for you when you choose to rise and greet the day.”

“It’s summer, _must_ you rise with the sun?” Hermione grumbled, her hand reaching out for him.

Satisfaction colored his face as he drew back. He’d suspected that Hermione was pouting while awake. Stretching out his legs, his toes curling, Severus shifted so that he could stand up from the bed.

He stepped over her discarded shirt on the floor. “The sun in my eyes woke me. Once I wake, there is no going back to sleep.”

Hermione had rolled into the space he had just departed, her face buried in the pillow. 

Severus moved to his dresser, pulling out his clothing for the day. He endeavored to do it quietly, suspecting that she was not as keen to be up. By the time he was walking out the door, she was snoring again.

  
  


Once his morning needs were met, Severus padded down the stairs. It was odd to him that they did not creak, and he did not need to balance as he wandered down them.

“MROW!” 

He was greeted by an angry orange cat on his counters. Severus walked past him, pulling his mug from the cupboard. 

“I do not know the rules of your previous home, Crookshanks, but you _will_ refrain from being on my counters and places where food is prepared. I am giving you until I wash these mugs to remove yourself, or _I will_.” Severus grumbled, washing a mug for himself and for Hermione. He needed to scourgify the cabinets before being confident that everything didn’t need to be washed before being used.

“Mrow!”

Severus sighed, shaking his head. The cat was protesting like a first-year. 

Severus knew the tone, even in feline. “I _understand_ that it may not have been the rules before; however, I do not desire to consume your hair, and it is my house.”

He heard the great beast leap from the counter and land on the floor. Since cats, especially this one, were relatively light-footed, Severus assumed it was for his benefit. “Mrow.”

“I am glad we can come to an agreement.” He nodded, turning to get the coffee press ready. He turned the kettle on before measuring out the precise amount of coffee. 

Severus drummed his fingers against the counter as he waited for the water to heat. He could have done it with magic, but it would not taste the same.

Crookshanks sat on the floor in front of his food bowl. Severus watched as he looked at it and then at him. “MROW!”

Severus crossed his arms, looking down at the indignant feline. “That is between you and Hermione. She says you eat kibble; you eat kibble.”

“Mrow.” Crookshanks cocked his head at him, and he swore the cat was trying to get him to talk to Hermione on his behalf.

Severus shook his head, pouring the hot water over the grounds. “I think both of us _know_ that she will win that fight.”

“Are you talking to my cat?” Hermione walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

“Mrow?”

Severus schooled his face, deadpanning. “No, I was _not_. Coffee is ready.”

Hermione stared at him, crossing her arms with disbelief written all over her face.

He rose an eyebrow at her and turned, pouring his coffee.

“It’s okay, baby, he doesn’t want to admit that he likes you.” He heard her coo.

Severus snorted and poured her a cup of coffee. 

  
  


He turned around to see her crouched by her familiar, petting his fur. She was still in his shirt; it was too long on her and came down to her thighs. It also seemed like she had decided to nick one of his pairs of sleeping pants, as she was no longer in her denim. Usually, he would be rather upset by the invasion of privacy and the lack of asking, but he found it hard to be when she stood up and kissed him.

“I see you have acquainted yourself with my dresser.” He offered, trying to sound terse.

Hermione stepped back and gave him a bashful smile. “All my clothes are still down here.”

“And I assume that walking down here to get them suited you less than puttering around in my clothing this morning?” He slipped past her, bringing both mugs of coffee to the kitchen table.

He sat down heavily in the seat, watching her moving to join him. 

“If you are angry with me, I can go change.” Hermione frowned, slipping into her seat.

_Was it already her seat…_ Severus mused to himself, taking his first sip of the rich bitter brew.

He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself to answer her. “No, but I do draw the line at you wearing my underpants.”

“I’m not, I’m still in my own,” Hermione said, sipping her own mug.

Severus nodded, yawning away the last of the sleep lag in his body. “Glad we agree. Did you have anything you wanted to do this morning?” 

“What do you usually do?” Hermione asked him, both her hands wrapped around her mug.

  
  
  


That was a fair question and one he didn’t think he’d ever need to answer. Severus had spent his summers doing the same thing. He would revitalize his garden, set up his lab to work on whatever suited his fancy, or cloister himself up in his study and read and write. Now that Hermione was here and that he’d be teaching for two days out of the week, his whole routine was already out the window.

“My first order of business is always the lab and the garden. But you do not need to help me with either if you would rather do something else.” Severus settled on that as his goal for the day.

She looked around the room, and Severus admired the gentle smile that touched her lips. “I think I am going to start in this kitchen?”

“Is it truly that offensive to you?” he frowned, some of the shame from the day before returning. He did not think that the house was filthy, but maybe to her sensibilities, it was untenable.

She reached across the table, her warm fingers curling around his wrist.

“No, _Merlin no_ , but I want to know what color those are--” Hermione pointed to the fleur du lis.“--and I want to be helpful but not get in your way.”

Severus placed his hand over hers. “You do not need to clean my house or be helpful. You are not a maid; you are here to relax and enjoy yourself.”

“I am well aware. But I want to, and I think I might like it.” Hermione smirked, giving his wrist a squeeze before drinking more of her coffee.

Severus rubbed his forehead. “There is something _wrong_ with you.”

“Ouch, that time you sounded like you meant it.” There was mock hurt in her voice as he watched her cover her heart with her hand.

Severus furrowed his brow, blinking at her dully. “I _always_ mean it.”

“I meant, it didn’t sound affectionate.” Hermione teased him.

The urge to roll his eyes was too much. He downed the last of his coffee first, however. “Hermione, only _you_ could take my insults as affection.”

“Perhaps it is one of my more endearing qualities.” She giggled into her cup. 

“Perhaps.” Severus smiled at her, standing now with his mug. “Would you like me to make us breakfast?”

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, drinking the last of her coffee down. “If you don’t, I will, but after a shower.” 

  
  


Severus set his mug on the counter, mentally cataloging all they’d purchased and divining what would be suitable for breakfast and what he was actually hungry for. Thoughtfully quiet, he sidestepped so that Hermione could put her mug next to his.

_Eggs and toast…._ Severus settled internally.

He looked down at her, slipping her into his embrace. “A trade, you make dinner if I make breakfast?”

“That is an arrangement that I can agree to.” She beamed at him, lifting up on her toes to kiss him. 

Severus brought a hand up to her face, giving her what he deemed was an appropriate good morning kiss.

“Hermione.” He whispered softly against her lips.

Her smile curled against his lips. “Yes.”

Severus ran his hands down her sides. “My clothes look good on you.”

“Thank you.” She pecked him again, and he stopped her from pulling away.

He purred. “Hermione.”

“Severus?” She asked, her face turning pink with a blush.

“Please get your cat some _real_ food.” He asked her, his face going earnest.

The cacophony of laughter that left her lit up her whole face. “I knew it!”

Crookshanks meowed happily behind them.

* * *

**Severus,**

**My friend, I wish you well and hope that you and Miss Granger are in far better states than our last meeting. I am apologetic in my lack of communication since that time, but things have been, shall we say, delicate in my standing and safety.**

**I openly attacked a servant of the Council of Nine. While her master was indeed dead, it has made me something of a loose end. One they sought to tie up and fortunately failed. I have you to thank for their failure. Something about the concoction you brewed and tested with me has made me somewhat more resistant to my kin's attacks. They are not pleased with this either.**

**It did, however, give me a position of bargaining with the Council. Three failed attempts on my life were enough for them to send an actual envoy to entreat me to a meeting with one of the Nine. I was skeptical, but it was do this or keep adding bodies to an ever-growing list of sins. I choose the former.**

**I have been given the opportunity _(you know what that means for these types)_ to be the liaison between you, Miss Granger, and the Council. Apparently, their position on the plan of The Harkness’s has had a change of heart. Seems your paramour's friend, Mr. Potter, has been causing a bit of the stink, and you know how creatures of the night get when you start shining a light at them.**

**They wish to meet with you and Hermione. With me present and any other representatives _by which they mean protection_ , you see fit. From my understanding, this is supposed to be a diplomatic meeting, but we both know how _quickly_ diplomacy can break down. If you are amiable to this meeting, you get to choose the location. I told them quite frankly that you would sooner light yourself on fire than walk into a chamber full of bloodsuckers who have already tried to kill you and your lover. If you want some suggestions, I can provide you with a somewhat _‘comfortable_ ’ list of places to entertain them.**

**I remain your loyal friend,**

**Sanguini**

**PS: I have told them that my resistances are from my birthright and not your work. I suggest you use that to your advantage should you wish to pursue this.**

* * *

  
  


“Sonofabitch.” Severus cursed, tucking the letter into a pocket of his cargo pants.

Sitting back on his knees, he took a deep breath, shaking his head. Severus wondered how long it would be before that came back around to be dealt with. A beast like that does not curl tail and leave; they recoil and regroup. He’d have to talk to Hermione about it, but not before meeting with Sanguini. While he trusted the vampire farther than most, he would not leave loyalty untested in this matter. 

“Severus?” He heard Hermione call to him from the kitchen window.

He’d heard all manner of noise from in there earlier. Severus had decided that it was safer to stay in the garden and work on cleaning the beds than get in that witch’s way. Hermione had taken over his kitchen with vigor.

He called back to her. “Yes?” 

“Do you have a garden hose out there?” Her voice carried back to him. 

He heard another loud clunk from in there. Severus wondered what she could need it for, but answered her. “I do.”

“Great. I’ll be out there in a minute.” She said excitedly, and there were more metal sounds. 

Severus was sure that she was taking something apart and rebuilding it at this point. Sighing, he went back to his work, pulling weeds from his garden beds.

Try as Severus might, his mind could not get the letter out of his mind. He wanted a peaceful summer for both of them. Hermione needed to know peace, and Severus wanted it with her. This could put a damper on that.

  
  


Hermione came out of the garden door carrying the two oven racks and a scrub brush. Her grey blouse was messy and wet in places, and her denim had grease on them. “I didn’t want to scrub these in the tub.”

“Did you get into a fight with my stove?” Severus chuckled at her state of mess. 

She had her hair pulled back. Hermione gave him a confused expression. “No. I was just pulling it out to clean behind it.”

“Ah, I see.” Severus pulled another weed up, putting it in a pile to his side. “Do you need help?”

“Nope, you do the garden, I’m doing this,” Hermione said, putting the racks on the ground. 

  
  


They worked in relative quiet, Hermione viciously scrubbing the oven racks and Severus pulling weeds. It wasn’t awkward either; Severus didn’t feel that little need to fill the space with noise. Instead, he was able to enjoy the outside and her company.

Hermione leaned the racks against the wall by the door, obviously to dry. “Just have to wait for the oven to finish.”

Severus leaned back, pausing his work as she walked toward him.

“Will it be useful for supper, or are we getting takeaway?” Severus asked her. 

She stopped next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “I’m going to make a cottage pie. I haven’t had it in ages, and we have everything.”

“Sounds delicious.” He grinned, wiping his hand on the knee of his pant before reaching up to take her hand. “Don’t overdo yourself.”

Her hand squeezed his hand, and she squatted down next to him. “I should say the same to you, how long have you been in this position.”

“Long enough. I’m nearly done with this one. I will save the others for tomorrow.” Severus pointed to the four other garden beds that were desperate for his care. It usually took him a week or two of diligent work to get them back into shape.

“Would you like me to make us some tea once I put the stove back together?” Hermione asked him quietly. Her brown eyes were imploring him to rest; he’d seen that look in her eyes a million times before. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was etched in his memory.

Severus caved to them. “I would if you feel up to it.” 

“Good, I will come to get you when it is ready.” He watched her grin, and the happiness filled those dark honey orbs. He would light the world on fire to keep that look in her eyes. 

She stood, giving the racks a shake before walking into the house. He saw her drawing her wand and knew that she’d rush to have it ready.

  
  


Severus was determined to get this last plant pruned and weeded before she fetched him for a break. He heard some noise in the Vander’s back garden, but it paid it no mind; it was likely a cat or the elder Vendor taking out the lorry's rubbish. Severus finished the plant and scooped up his pile of plant matter, chucking it into the compost. He’d need to rotate that, but not right now. His knees were screaming for being in that position for so long, and he knew she was right and that he needed a break.

As if on cue, Hermione came out the back door. “Tea is ready, and I pulled a light lunch together.”

It looked like she’d cleaned herself off as well. Severus was hesitant to look at what she’d done to the kitchen, but at the same time, he was intrigued by all the noise he’d heard.

A male voice called over the garden wall on the left. “Snape, is that you?”

Severus rubbed his forehead, his head lowering. It was much too early for Brandon Vander to be up and causing trouble.

“Who is that,” Hermione asked him curiously.

Severus growled his whole mood shifting. “The neighbor.”

“It sounds like you’ve got a girl over there?” Brandon called, and there was the sound of metal being moved around. 

If he ignored him, he would only be more irritating. “I hardly see how that is any of _your_ business?” He yelled back.

Suddenly long red hair popped up over the garden wall, a square freckled face following it.

Severus thought the years had been far kinder to himself than Brandon. His skin was yellowish, and he had the body shape and movement of a bog toad.

“Oi, you have got a girl over here.” The redhead said, tucking his arms on the top of the gate.

Severus took a half step, placing himself partly in front of Hermione. “Need I remind you to not peer into my garden.”

The bastard grinned and leered at Hermione, seemingly ignoring Severus.

Severus internally began counting backward from 10.

“I needed to see it with my own eyes. You gonna introduce us?” Brandon said, gesturing between himself and Hermione.

Biting back the rude verbiage that first came to mind, Severus took a deep breath before tucking his arm around Hermione. 

He could tell she was concerned, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. Whatever her mind was doing, he could see the wheels turning.

Severus politely smiled at Hermione. “Hermione, this is Brandon; he is 47, _still_ lives with his parents, and has no occupation. Brandon, this is Hermione, she is **my** lady, and she will be here with me for as long as it suits her.” 

The false smile from Brandon melted as Severus knew it would. “Why do you say it like that, mate?”

“Nice to meet you. But we were just about to have tea, so we need to go.” Hermione chimed from his elbow.

Severus looked down at her, and Hermione tilted her head at him, giving him a strained smile.

It was apparent she did not like him, at least, to Severus. Her eyes had the look of a suspicious cat.

Brandon interrupted them. “See, she’s got some manners on her, with them looks too. How much you pay for her?”

“Pardon?” Severus jerked his head to the side so fast he was sure he had whiplash.

“Don’t get bent bout it, but there is no way _that_ a piece of ass like her is with _you_ if you didn’t pay for her.” Brandon regarded Severus with malice in his eyes.

Severus clenched his fist, and he felt the vein in his neck twitch as his blood pressure rose with his anger. “ _ **How dare you**_.”

Hermione placed a hand on Severus’s arm, stepping forward toward the bastard.“Severus, if you don’t mind.”

“Hermione,” Severus growled, trying to contain his temper.

They were in public, and the ministry would not look kindly on him killing a muggle, no matter how rude they were.

He watched the back of Hermione’s head as she spoke to his childhood bully, who had obviously not learned the lesson the last time. "Let me get this right, you are calling me a mail-order bride.”

“Yeah, youse a smart one too. Snape must have saved up for a long time on that teacher's pay.” Brandon said, appraising Hermione from head to toe. 

Hermione’s body language shifted. It was like watching Minerva transform into a mama lioness.

All fury and shoulders and a constrained power. Severus was concerned, but now, not for Hermione.

“I _know_ your type. Let me tell you something, Brandon, your inferiority complex is _completely justified_.” He watched as she stomped like she did when she was furious. “Severus has worked hard to get where he is, and he has sacrificed more than you can comprehend to have this life. Whereas you are still hanging off your mum's teat and vulturing around for the scraps.”

He was stunned by her words, not expecting that from her at all. Hermione was not the sort to insult a complete stranger. So either she spent too much time with Severus, or she really didn’t like him.

Severus took a step forward as Brandon glared at her. 

“Look, lady, I’m trying to be friendly, say hi, make your acquaintance, so that when you get tired of him, you can come to find a _real_ man.” Brandon’s tone implied much.

Severus put his hand on Hermione’s shoulder firmly, narrowing his eyes dangerously. “I think, Brandon, that she has very clearly told you she does not wish to make your acquaintance. Get down and _stay_ out of my garden.”

Brandon looked at him, and then he seemed to remember himself because his face seemed to recognize the threat that Severus was screaming with his eyes.

“Fucking Tosser,” Brandon said, starting to climb down.

Hermione cupped her hand over her mouth, and he swore he heard her cast a spell.

  
  


**CRASH!**

**BANG!**

**SNAP!**

  
  


“Oh, my fucking nose, shite fuck damn. Mother shite.” Brandon was cursing on the other side of the fence.

  
  
  


Hermione smiled sadly at him and took his hand, leading him into the house.

“You should not have done that,” Severus said, shutting the door behind them.

Hermione tried to look innocent as she went down the hall. “Done what?”

“Cast a spell on him.” He said sternly. His anger was still there, and he was sure that it sounded like he was angry at her. In all reality, he’d wished he’d wiped the salacious look off of Vander’s face before he fell to the ground.

Hermione sighed, walking to the stove. “I did _no such thing_. He was on a wobbly ladder. He fell.”

“Hermione.” Severus snipped at her.

Hermione turned then, and he was taken aback by the look on her face. Her eyes were both angry and deeply sad. As if she’d just suffered something unspeakable and wanted vengeance. “Severus. Moving a ladder two centimeters to the right is not going to bring the ministry down on me.”

“And if he’d broken his neck,” Severus asked, his temper deflated under her gaze's weight.

Her lips quirked, the briefest of smirks touching her lips. “He should have thought twice about calling me a mail order bride.”

He stopped for a moment.

Yes, it had been a great insult to Severus, to insinuate that he would be forced to pay for companionship.

But he now took into account how grievous it was to Hermione, to allude that she was one.

It was apparent now that her feelings had been wounded, and she’d lashed out in a practical yet minor way.

_This was the woman who set me on fire as an 11-year-old…_ Severus thought, shaking his head. 

“I- cannot find fault in that logic.” He agreed, resting his hand on the counter. 

Severus noticed now the counters were once again white in places that they had yellowed. He looked around, seeing that cabinets were also clean and much brighter than before. Severus took a moment to appreciate her work. The stove looked like it did nearly 30 years ago when it was new, and he’d had it put in. The sink and fridge were clean, and he didn’t even notice that they were that dirty before. Whatever Hermione had done, she’d managed to remove layers of stains that could have been older than him.

“You did a beautiful job here,” Severus said appreciatively, hoping his praise of her work would cheer her.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned now, grabbing the plates. “I’m not done yet, just you wait. You won’t recognize it.” 

Severus reached out, taking the plates which had sandwiches on them from her hands. “Thank you.”

“It is no problem, Severus, really.” She smiled weakly. Her eyes were still heavy with sadness. Severus did not like it.

He was going to spend the rest of the day removing that expression from her face. House Cleaning and lab work be damned, he wasn’t letting his witch be miserable over something an idiot said. Especially not that idiot.

* * *

  
  


**Wizengamot Judge killed in Gringotts Accident.**

**Judge Xaviar Antonius died this week in a bizarre accident at Gringotts Bank. The Judge was attending to his financial affairs in his vault when it seems a swarm of vault lizards ascended on him. Vault Lizards are a part of the traditional defense of such high priority vaults and have no history of attacking rightful vault owners.**

**We interviewed a representative of Gringotts for more information, Lugkoff, an accounting goblin. “Upon our investigation of the scene, it seems that Mr. Antonius made a dire mistake in trying to disturb a nest of Vault Lizards. Their nests are high in the vaults' walls, and we do not want to speculate on the reasons he decided to do this, but it did result in his end. Vault Lizards are protective of their young, and this nest had live hatchlings. It is an unfortunate accident, and we have, of course, given restitution to his widow for such an accident. A word of warning, however. The possession of and selling of a Vault Lizard egg or young is considered a high crime. If one is found trading in them, they are not subject to the Wizengamot, but the Goblin Nation.”**

**He was survived by his wife and brother. Our thoughts are with the family during this trying time.**

* * *

The rest of the week flowed nearly seamlessly. Severus was surprised at how well Hermione fit into his life outside of Hogwarts. It was uncanny even. Instead of feeling like he had to accommodate her and change everything about what he usually did, she blended into his routine as if space had always been there for her to occupy.

She was right; by the end of the week, he didn’t recognize his kitchen. The walls had brass and blue fleur de lis on a cream background. Not the off grey on yellow they had been his whole life. Hermione had used magic to fix cabinets and even the kitchen table. But she’d also brought life to the kitchen. It was hard for him to put the finger on it, but she’d done something to the room's very atmosphere.

When he asked her about it, Hermione seemed to have no idea what he was talking about. So he let it go; if she had some secret way to clean rooms and make them feel comfortable, he wouldn’t complain.

Not when he had other things to worry about. Sanguini had agreed to come over on Monday to discuss the turn of events, and he started teaching the Aurors with Lucius on Tuesday. 

And Hermione had her first appointment with Leliana on Monday. Part of him hoped she’d ask him to come, and the other part dreaded if she did. He had no idea what to expect from the youngest Shade in a professional setting, only having dealt with her when helping Artimis get her set up in the Muggle world. 

He trusted Artimis with Hermione’s well being and, by extension, Leliana. Severus feared that when Hermione got there, he’d have been doing something horribly wrong to help Hermione recover and accidentally made it worse for her.

It was more than he expected on his plate in the first week of summer, but he suspected that this would be a summer unlike any other for him.

However, it was made worth it by her curling into him in her sleep at night and wrapping around him like she never wanted him to go. Severus had always believed you could tell a lot about a person in their sleep. When he and Hermione first began sleeping together, she was very jumpy, and the slightest movement roused her. Now, she was sleeping deeper and would seek him out if Severus moved from her side. He could get up from the bed and return, and she would sleep through it.

It would be a different sort of summer for him, indeed, but he was coming to the realization that different didn’t mean bad.

  
  



	61. Power and Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.
> 
> Note: I know that normal therapy is not so intensive on the first visit. I have a therapist myself, but I don't want to write that many sessions and Hermione had a reputation of being an academic over achiever.

Her face was warm, and she could feel him snoring. 

Hermione cracked an eye open and yawned. Severus was still sleeping, somehow she’d woken up before him. 

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, Hermione slipped her arm from around him. 

Carefully rolling from under the covers, she sat on the end of the bed and stretched, yawning again. 

The curtains had been drawn closed, which was likely why Severus hadn’t been up before her. 

Hermione padded across the room, going to her bag on the dresser. 

Fishing around for clothing, she wanted something professional. 

Her appointment was at eleven, and she was nervous. That could have also been why she was up early. 

Her stomach was in knots.

Throwing her clothing over her arm, she tiptoed out of the room, trying to let Severus rest. She’d wake him after she got ready.

After Hermione showered and got dressed, she looked in the mirror, appraising herself. 

She’d chosen a soft grey business suit that she’d had packed away. She’d only worn it a few times when she had to liaison between the muggle government and the Ministry. That only happens when there was some kind of nuisance animal starting to get notice of the muggles.

It made her feel in control, and she needed that today if only to keep her from going batty with anxiety.

Tucking her hair back with a headband, she settled that she looked professional enough to be taken seriously. 

Frowning in the mirror, she realized that she was confronted with a fear she hadn’t been prepared for. 

This woman didn’t know her; how would Hermione be sure that Dr. Leliana believed her.

The knot in her stomach was tighter. Swallowing down the bile that rose up, she decided to see if Severus was up. 

Cleaning up after herself, she left the steamy bathroom.

The bedroom door was open. Hermione knew she had closed it, so she wasn’t surprised when Severus was not in bed. 

She put her sleeping clothes in her bag, still trying to calm her nerves.

_ It will be okay… _ Hermione repeated, shaking her hands because they were trembling. It was as if the closer she got to the appointment, the antsier she got.

Heading down the stairs, she heard him in the kitchen  _ ‘not talking to her cat’ _ as he had started doing since moving in with him. 

A grin took her lips hostage against the anxiety as she turned the corner.

Severus was shirtless, leaning against the counter. He looked like the meaning of the word relaxed. His black hair was tucked back behind his ears, lips relaxed, even his face looked younger as if Severus didn’t have a care in the world. He’d been looking at Crookshanks, who was eating his breakfast that Severus must have served him. Now, Hermione felt blush in her cheeks as his dark eyes swept over her. Her heart thumped against her chest at the way his lips curved, and his eyes seemed to take on a look that she’d only ever seen him give to her.

He leaned away from the counter, moving forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good morning, you look amazing this morning.”

“Good morning. Thank you for feeding Crooks.” The smile grew, and she squeezed his arm appreciatively. 

Severus snorted, sliding around her. “He bellyaches until he is fed in the morning. I’m headed to the loo; watch the coffee, please.” 

Hermione watched as he disappeared into the hallway.

mrowww.

“Yes, good morning, love. Please don’t get hair on mummy’s pants, I have to go out in public today.” Hermione said, sidestepping as Crookshanks tried to rub against her. 

He was purring loudly. 

Severus had been right; giving him wet food that actually had food in it had made him a much happier cat.

Hermione looked at the coffee press. It was still too light; he must have just put the water in as she came downstairs. The kitchen smelt incredible, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring it. The tension in her stomach was still there. It was anchoring around her guts as she tried to push it away.

Shaking her head, she saw that they had their mugs out already. It’d become something of a habit now. Severus made coffee in the morning and breakfast, and Hermione made tea and dinner. 

Her skin seemed to hum with warmth as she thought about it. 

This was something she’d never had. Even when she and Ron were at their best, there wasn’t this kind of calm. Time spent with Severus required no effort, no additional thought on her part. It just seemed to happen naturally. She wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, because she knew she had to be throwing his whole routine off, but he didn’t seem to be put out by her presence.

This kitchen was a testament to his trust in her and her own accomplishment. He’d given her carte blanche to do as she wished to his kitchen, and Hermione had done her best to do it justice. She’d been so pleased with the color of the wallpaper because her gut had been right. The hard work and seeing something come from effort had given her satisfaction that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hermione glanced at the coffee press and pressed the plunger down, separating the grounds from the liquid. Hermione asked Severus why he didn’t have a drip pot, but he was adamant that the only way to make coffee was the press. Hermione poured them both mugs of the steaming coffee and carried them both to the table.

Severus came into the room just as she was sitting down in her spot. He joined her at the table and took his first drink of coffee. Hermione smiled, looking at the pleasure that the action brought to his face. Hermione took a careful sip of her own, trying to make sure that she did not spill coffee on her clothing.

“When is your appointment?” He asked after his second drink.

The nerves started again at the reminder that she would have to leave soon. “Eleven, in Aberdeen.”

Severus nodded. “How are you getting there?”

“Floo to the nearby village and then walk the rest of the way.” Hermione explained. She’d already gotten the address figured out; she had done her best to calculate how long it would take for her to get there. It needed to be one less thing she worried about.

Severus set his cup down and reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Do you- would you like me to go with you.”

“I- I don’t think I- I’ll be okay, I know you have a lot to do.” Hermione explained, squeezing his hand. She would have liked the company on the walk there, but Hermione wasn’t sure what she was walking into. Deep in her, she knew she needed to do this on her own. For her own sake. 

Severus nodded, giving her hand a final squeeze before leaning back in his seat. “If you are sure. I wanted to let you know I was willing if you need me to.”

“Thank you, Severus.” Hermione took another careful drink of her coffee.

  
  


His foot moved over hers, and he left it here. Severus gave her what she could only describe as a cheeky smile and finished off his coffee.

“I will be here when you get back; Sanguini will be here later this evening to talk over a few things. If you cannot find me, we will be in my study, and I ask you for privacy.” Severus explained seriously.

Hermione nodded at him, rolling her foot so that it was on top of his. “Is everything alright, or is this a business matter?”

“I am not absolutely certain yet. Likely a business matter.” He raised his eyebrow at her, shifting so that his foot was going up to her pant leg.

A chuckle escaped her, and she crossed her ankles, trapping his foot against her leg. “Well, if he is here when I get here, I will wait to tell you about my appointment until he leaves.”

“What would you like for breakfast?” Severus smirked at her, rotating his ankle and trying to move out of her hold.

Hermione pressed down with her heel so that he would have to pull harder to escape her. “Something light, my stomach can’t handle much. Nerves.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?” He asked her with concern, leaning back toward the table.

She twisted her lips, letting her hold on him go. “It’s a new experience, and I don’t know what to expect.”

“Are you sure you don’t wish me to come with you?” He asked her, rising from the table. Severus grabbed his coffee cup and yawned.

Hermione shook her head at him. “No, you have a meeting, and I have to do this by myself.”

Severus nodded and leaned down to kiss her. 

He smelt like coffee on top of his familiar scent, and it was rather pleasant. 

She kissed him twice, for luck.

A grin rested on his lips, and she watched him walk into the kitchen. “How about some toast and marmalade?” 

“Sounds perfect.” Hermione replied, taking her coffee cup and working her way through it.

She’d never have thought in a million years that coffee in the morning with Severus would be one of her favorite parts of the day.

* * *

  
  


“Take a seat, Miss Granger, she will be with you shortly.”

Hermione swallowed back her nerves and took a seat in the waiting room. It was designed to look like a living room rather than a doctor’s office. There were couches and not awful plastic chairs, and it was decorated with serene scenes of nature. Hermione found that she would have liked it a lot more if her guts were not trying to escape via her throat. The whole walk here, it felt like she had a growing boulder on her.

By the time she checked in, she had thought she wasn’t breathing. The longer she sat there, the more she felt like she wanted to run away and that this was a terrible idea. 

That she’d end up being told it wasn’t the truth, and she was lying and embarrass herself.

“Miss Granger. Please, this way.” The receptionist who checked her in opened a door and gestured for her to join her.

Hermione had a hard time getting to her feet. Her skin was jumpy with the impending fear that crawled down her spine.

A woman with brown hair waited for her at the end of the hall. She stepped forward, extending her hand out. “Miss Granger, nice to meet you, I am Dr. Leliana. Come into my office.” 

The woman was dressed in a blouse and slacks, making Hermione feel somewhat overdressed. 

It had a casual look that made her look effortlessly put together.

Hermione shook her hand and followed her into a beautifully decorated room. 

It was done in yellows and oranges and bright light wood accents. 

The overstuffed armchairs sat facing each other in the center of the room, like small meeting groups. 

There seemed to be different seats all over the place, paired up by two.

“Do you prefer by the window, or is this acceptable to you?” The doctor asked. 

“Here is fine.” Hermione managed to get her voice to work. She took a seat in the armchair, sinking into it.

  
  
  


Dr. Leliana took a set, crossing her legs. Up close, the resemblance to Artimis was uncanny. They had similar noses and had the same air around them. 

This woman controlled the space around her and offered no apologies. For a woman without magic, she looked powerful.

“It is nice to finally meet you, our mutual connection has told me a great deal about you.” Leliana offered, pulling a file into her lap.

Hermione nodded nervously, trying to settle her emotions.

“So, I wanted to start off with some basic ground rules, are you fine with this?” The woman drew a pen from her ear and looked at Hermione.

Hermione let out a deep breath. “Yes, sorry, very nervous.”

“Understandable, first appointments are always nerve-wracking. If you need anything, water, or to step outside, please let me know." The woman smiled at her, settling into her armchair.  "So, I would like to start with the most important thing. You are not my normal clientele; in fact, I do my best to shy away from any clients attached to the wizarding world for my safety and my staff’s safety. However, you come at the recommendation of the one person I cannot deny and trust wholeheartedly. That being said, I need you to make a few commitments to me. There is **no** magic in this building at all. Unless it is accidental, which can happen, it will be grounds for me to end our sessions permanently. You will not apparate here, or attempt any other magical transportation to this place. If you must use glamors to get here undisturbed, I will allow that.” The woman tapped the pen against her notebook.

Hermione was curious now because Artimis was trying so hard to give this woman the magic that was her birthright, but she seemed to shun it. “Why may I ask, are you so adamant against magic here?”

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly, and there was a finality to her words. “My life and the life of many others _depend_ on the fact that we are unknown to the magical world. Many of my staff are squibs or those who have turned away from the magical world. Either because of the war or because of personal reasons. It is for our protection. Can you agree to it.”

“I understand wanting to protect yourself. I can abstain from using magic while here.” She nodded.

Leliana seemed to relax, a smile replacing the stern expression. “Splendid. Now for the more basic rules. Everything you say in this room stays in this room; I will not divulge anything to anyone without your express permission. I specialized in a gestalt approach to cognitive behavior therapy mixed with psychoanalysis. Based on what I have forwarded from Healer Shade, I will also recommend that my partner, Dr. Dixon, sits in on some of your sessions to offer his expertise if it suits you. He is a sex therapist with a talk therapy approach.”

Hermione’s eyes bulged for a moment. “I’m sorry, what did she tell you or send you?”

“She sent me a personalized note with some key details of your abuse and history and how I can best help. Sex therapy is not where we teach you how to have sex, and everyone keeps their clothes on. It covers many things, including recovery from sexual abuse and overcoming intimacy issues.” The doctor explained with an earnest smile.

It took her a few seconds before she responded, processing the vast amount of information that she was getting at once. 

Many questions were brewing in her. She was doing her best to wait until an appropriate time to ask them. “I understand anything else.”

Dr. Shade leaned back in her chair. “One last thing, I expect effort on your part. If we come to a point in our sessions where I feel like you are just going through the motions, we may have to adjust your care plan or end them. Healing is a practice, it doesn’t happen without putting in the work.”

“That is something I can agree with. I am not afraid of hard work.” Hermione explained.

  
  
  


Dr. Shade bowed her head with approval. “Very good, because I like to assign homework and expect it done by the next session. Now, to start, why don’t you tell me about where you are in your life and where you are trying to go.”

Hermione sat there for a few minutes, trying to think of where to start. 

Talking about herself was not the same as talking about a subject she’d researched. 

The same kind of framework didn’t exist.

“Oh, okay. Well, right now I’m living with my suitor, it’s really my boyfriend, but he wants to be called a suitor because he thinks he is too old to be my boyfriend. I just started living at his house when summer break happened, but we were kind of living together at Hogwarts while we were teaching.” Hermione finally managed to form some kind of reasonable response.

The therapist started writing and looked up to her when she stopped. “How is that going, and how long have you been seeing each other?”

Hermione had to think about that. No one else ever seemed to ask how long they’d been seeing each other. “To be honest, I don’t know  _ exactly _ how long we’ve seen each other. If you go by the day we became official, it would be two months. But we’ve been close for about four or so.”

“And you are living together already.” Dr. Shade asked with an even tone.

Hermione felt like there should have been a judgment in her tone. “I know, I know, but-- there was something between us a long time ago and a lot of people interfered with it.”

“Ah, so you’ve known him for a long time.” The doctor was still taking notes as Hermione spoke to her.

Hermione nodded her head; she’d known Severus for as long as she’d known magic. “Since I was 11.”

“You grew up together?” Shade asked with a curious tone.

“No, he was my teacher then.” Hermione corrected and then realized how it sounded. “Circe, this gets _worse_ , the more I talk.”

The woman held her hand out with a soft smile. “No no, this is a judgment-free room. However, I am curious how did you go from teacher/pupil to involved with each other?”

“This time, or before?” Hermione asked.

“Before.”

Hermione twisted her lips, thinking about what had drawn her and Severus into the friendship that should have been more so many years ago. “He saved our lives. I saved his life. He was nearly killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. He had to be rehabilitated to do anything for himself. I didn’t leave his side, I couldn’t-- I was so afraid someone would hurt him.”

“You developed feelings while being his caretaker? And why would someone hurt him.” Leliana said, looking at her now curiously.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, considering how much of this she could tell. Severus’s role in the war was widely known at this point, so it would not hurt anything. “He was a spy on the other side for us. And it wasn’t ‘I’m in love with you because I’m taking care of you.’ When he got his strength back and was more to his usual self, we bonded. We read and play chess, and he never once tried to treat me like I had to be something I am not.”

“And others did at the time,” The woman probed her.

Hermione nodded, thinking about how Ron had been with her then. It made her stomach turn. “My boyfriend, at the time, now my ex-husband, wanted me to settle and get married.”

“But, your current boyfriend did not treat you that way then.” Shade questioned her.

“No, not until-” Hermione had to stop herself for a second as the thought of what had happened crept forward. “--Until my ex-mother in law interfered. And then, well Severus, I guess, went off the deep end.”

The doctor’s body language shifted, and she sat up more, looking at her with wide eyes. “Severus? Severus _ Snape _ ?”

“Yes, you know him.” Hermione asked hesitantly. Perhaps this Shade did not have the same affinity for Severus, and she would be nasty about it. Hermione was ready to take an onslaught of abuse.

Leliana Shade broke into a huge grin. “I owe my educational success to him. He helped me get into uni. He is a close friend of my sister’s. You are dating Severus Snape?”

“I am.” Relief washed through Hermione, and she relaxed in her chair.

Shade looked at her notepad, taking note, and then looked up at her abruptly. “Wait, that means, okay-- _You_ are the witch who saved his life. Ha- what a  _ small _ world.”

“Wait, what.” Hermione was confused as to what was so amusing.

Leliana leaned forward, her elbow on her crossed legs. “When he was tutoring me for my entrance exams, he mentioned that there’d been a witch who saved his life when I pried into how he survived. Something about how you were insufferable and know it all.”

Hermione laughed then. “That’s Severus. And yes, that was me he was talking about.”

“I’m sorry I interrupted you, please go on, you say he went off the deep end, what do you mean?” Leliana said, the professional mask seemingly slipping into place. 

Hermione frowned, trying to put into words what happened without breaking down. “Well, Molly, she-- she made him think he wasn’t any good for me, and he said and did a lot of things that-- hurt and sent me running to my ex-husband.”

“I can already see in your face that this is something I should note to ask about in a future session. You don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t ready to. Today is about getting to know each other.” The expression on the Leliana Shades face was empathetic.

Hermione took a breath, closing her eyes. She really didn’t want to talk about what Severus had done, not right now. Hermione was afraid it would make her angry at him all over again. No, she wanted to take the out offered to her and nodded. “Okay. What else do you want to know.”

  
  
  


“So, tell me about what else you are doing in your life,” Leliana asked curiously.

Hermione thought for a moment, and then remembered the kitchen. “Well, right now, I’m deep cleaning his house?”

“Okay, and why are you doing that?”

“Because I want to, and it’s such a beautiful old house, and it just needs some love. You should see the kitchen, it looks like a whole different room.” A proud smile took over her face as she described it.

Leliana smiled at her, much more enthused. “So, doing this makes you happy?”

“Yes, it really does. And when Severus smiles when he sees it, it makes me feel outstanding.” Hermione thought about Severus when he’d seen the kitchen when she was done with it. He’d been visibly surprised and happy and told her he thought she was terrific.

  
  
  


“I see. So let’s switch gears a little bit, what are your goals in life, where are you trying to get from here.” Doctor Leliana looked at her expectantly.

Hermione immediately drew a blank. 

_ What do I want to do from here?... _ She asked herself, realizing that she’d become aloft with no goals. 

_ She’d always had goals; where had they gone?... _

“Um-” Hermione tried to think of something.

Leliana leaned back in her chair, crossing her hands over her lap. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

Her face fell as she realized she didn’t have anything planned. 

At some point, her life had gone over into just surviving from one day to the next.

She’d stopped thinking about the future. 

It horrified her to her core.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

  
  
  


The woman seemed to show some understanding, her brown hair being pushed back over her shoulder. 

She made a note on the pad in front of her and clasped her hands together. “Okay, well, I sense a homework assignment in your future. How about your biggest concerns right now? What are they?’

“Is there enough time in the day for that?” Hermione sighed sarcastically. The could be an entire book filled on what was currently bothering her. 

Her response garnered a chuckle from her therapist. “I assure you there is.”

“Where should I start? I’ve got two court dates coming up, one for my ex-husband trying to kill me and the other for me killing a set of vampires trying to kill me.” Hermione explained, rubbing her forehead and fixing her glasses. 

Saying it aloud did not make her feel any better about it. Any of it. She still felt dreadful about having a flashback with Viktor and wasn’t looking forward to facing Ron again, or anyone that had anything to do with Marietta. 

If she could avoid the whole thing altogether, she would.

The woman sitting across from her had a slightly stunned look on her face. “Wow, that’s not something I hear every day.”

“I promise you, if there was a greek tragedy written on my life, everyone would think it was too dark for the stage.” Hermione laughed sardonically.

With ease, the shock was gone from the woman’s face. “These trials, why don’t you tell me about them.”

  
  
It took Hermione some time to go over the events that lead to both the trials coming up. Of course, the hardest was discussing her near-death experience and her new fear of having her feet off the ground. Her therapist listened with interest, asking all kinds of questions as she explained how she’d been betrayed and thrown to her death. 

She also had to explain about Alexander. Hermione cried again as if it were a fresh wound, but this time, she could end the story on a positive note. Hermione gushed about what Severus had done for her son about the sacrifice he’d made to bring her peace of mind. Something in Hermione swelled up, her tears becoming that of awe as she talked about how Severus would sit with her in her private garden.

It was easier for her to talk about the vampire trial. Hermione felt terrible that she’d taken a life, but she knew that it was her or them. And while she was afraid of seeing Ron again, she would not have to see anyone but maybe Maria at the other trial. It was more inconvenient than it was frightening. Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of it.

But Dr. Shade kept taking notes and nodding; by now, Hermione knew she had at least six pages of notes based on how many times she’d turned the notepad.

Hermione stopped talking for a moment, feeling winded and like she’d not talked that much in a long time. It was emotionally draining to go over her life events again, but she knew it was necessary.

Dr. Shade took in a deep breath under the gravity of what Hermione had been saying. “That is a lot to deal with; I can understand why you might be under some stress. Is that all that has your attention right now?’

  
Hermione worried her lip, looking at her hands. The trials were not even the most significant thing in her mind. It was most comfortable to bring up and easier to talk about. The thing that was an everyday presence in her face was her growing frustration with the fact that she couldn’t be more intimate with Severus. While he had made no such complaints, she knew that he put himself in a lot of discomfort to make sure that she was the one who was okay with everything. For once, she wanted to not have to worry about it and for both of them to be able to enjoy each other without the looming presence of her fear.

Hermione hated her body most nights. She felt incomplete and, at times, utterly unworthy of Severus. “There is also my- body is  _ stupid _ and Severus and I, well I can’t handle a lot of- anything really, without freaking out.”

Leliana made a face at her that was disappointed. “I don’t like that word _‘stupid,’_ don’t use it for yourself. So that I understand what you are saying. You have intimacy problems with Severus?”

“Not with him-- _**with me**_. I- I can’t- it becomes too much, I can’t handle more than him kissing me and barely touching my skin.” Hermione wrapped her arms around herself as she thought of how her stomach would betray her, and her nerves would act like she was being hurt. 

She hated it so much. 

Even with Severus’s praise, she always felt like she was letting them both down.

The doctor put her notepad on the side table, sliding forward in her chair. “This is something for us to talk to Dr. Dixon about. I’ll have him join us after his appointment finishes. If you are comfortable with it.”

Hermione shrugged, thinking about it. She was there to get better and get tools to make herself able to function as she had been able to act like before. Why wouldn’t she speak to someone who could give her those tools? “I suppose, I mean, I’m here to get expert advice.”

“I’m glad you are here. I think we should stop here for a minute, take a breather, and then we will have Dr. Dixon join us.” Leliana stood up, offering her hand to Hermione.

Hermione took her hand and stood nodding. It would be good for her to take a little break from all this emotional talking. “Alright, can I use your facilities?”

“Yes, out the door, to the left.” The doctor directed.

“Thank you.” Hermione stepped out the door and followed her directions.

  
  


When Hermione returned, there was a short but slender man standing with Leliana. He was dressed similarly to her in business casual attire. Again she felt overdressed. Hermione inhaled through her nose and let herself be introduced to the man by Leliana. 

Spencer Dixon was a muggle-born who’d given up on the magical world after being imprisoned during Voldemort's reign. He was both concerned about her being there and pleased to meet her. When Spencer joined the session, the conversation took a turn toward her experiences with Ron and how she felt about sex in general now. She found it was easier to talk to him than she’d expected; he had the same kind of manner that Leliana had, which was unjudging and compassionate.

They covered a lot of challenging topics for her. And it was far more intense than she’d expected. They talked about what Ron had done to her and given it a name that she still couldn’t bring herself to say. She had to work on that, but they encouraged her. By the end of the three-hour session, Hermione felt drained, but not as broken. 

Dr. Dixon handed her a stack of books, which he told her it was okay if she took her time reading them. Hermione looked at them and had to chuckle. On a good day, she could get through half the stack and have free time.

“Don’t forget, you have homework. I want you to start journaling every day. You need to record when you wake up, how do you feel, what did you dream about if you did dream. You need to write down what you are eating when you are eating and any sexual activity you partake in. You need to write down your feelings about it as objectively as you can.” Dr. Shade said, handing her a notebook.

Dr. Dixon nodded and then added to it. “And you need to become an active participant in your sexual activities. Your partner sounds like he is doing everything for you, and that is great, but you still feel like it is being done to you, and not that you are a part of it. Explain it to him, and if he needs to have a man explain it to him, he can contact me.”

“Spencer, you realize her partner is Snape, right?” Dr. Shade laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Hermione looked between them, there had to be some joke here that she was missing.

Dr. Dixon ran his hands through his black hair, shaking his head. “Oh, I am aware, I have no desire to talk about the aspects of my former potions professor’s sex life, but Miss Granger is our client, and I will do what I must. As long as he doesn’t hex me.”

It suddenly made sense to her. Spencer was a muggle-born who had gone to Hogwarts; he’d been taught by Severus long before she ever came to the school. Hermione did not want to think about how that conversation would go, and fortunately, she didn’t know it would need to happen.

“I think Severus will listen to me just fine. But if he wants to speak with you, I’ll make him promise to not hex you.”

“Thank you, Miss Granger. I do have to take my lunch now, or I will be eating during my three o’clock.” Spencer said, leaving the room.

Hermione explained that she wanted to put her books in her bag, and Leliana agreed, knowing it would be hard and potentially embarrassing to walk about with some of the books she’d been given. Once they were tucked safely away. Hermione was led out by Dr. Shade. 

“Shirley, set her up for an appointment next week, 2 hours, a block with Spencer and me.”

“Sure, come over here, Miss Granger, and let’s get you set up.” The receptionist said.

Dr. Shade held out her hand to Hermione. “I look forward to seeing you next week.”

“You too. Thank you.” Hermione said, shaking her hand.

“You are welcome. Tell your suitor that I send my regards.” Leliana Shade said, walking back toward her office.

Hermione agreed. “I will.”

* * *

Hermione walked out of the floo into the house, a plan already in her mind. 

She’d been thinking of her homework since she’d left the practice.

Which really didn’t surprise her, nor did she think it would surprise anyone else who knew her.

Severus was sitting in the chair by the fireplace, reading a book. “How did it go.”

“Great, actually. I have a lot of books to read, and she gave me homework.” Hermione said, sitting her bag down on her pile of books by her chair. She turned to him with a smile.

Severus snorted, turning the book's page he was reading, “Did she have the presence of mind to give you a word limit.”

“No, not really.” Hermione smirked, moving to stand in front of him.

“I worry about her eyes.” Severus teased, looking up at her from his book.

Hermione looked around the room, trying to see if they had a visitor or not.

Hermione hoped that they were alone at home. “Is he here yet?”

“Not yet.” Severus explained. “He should be here shortly.”

Hermione took a deep breath and tried not to blush. “Good, you wanna help me with some of my homework?”

She put her hand on his book and pushed it to the side, straddling his lap. 

Severus looked at her warily, setting the book down and tilting his head at her. “What kind of homework, Hermione?”

It was evident that he was intrigued by how his forehead wrinkled, and his eyes looked over her for answers.

“Yes, or no?” Hermione asked, leaning her forehead against his.

Severus closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before smiling. “Yes?”

“I have all the power, right?” She hummed at him, leaning to kiss the side of his face by his ear. 

Hermione knew what she wanted to do, and she’d been thinking about it the whole travel home. 

All he needed to do was to enjoy himself.

Severus smirked, having caught on to the direction this was going. “You have the power, as long as neither of us gets hurt.”

“Okay, so keep your hands on the chair arms. Don’t touch me if you can manage it.” She purred against him.

Severus rose an eyebrow at her. “I think I can manage it. Are you going to tell me what you are going to do now?”

Hermione pressed her lips to his lips and kissed him like she was being graded on it. 

The kiss went from simple to passionate nearly instantly. 

Severus opened his mouth to her, and she took advantage, using her tongue to coax his into her mouth.

Severus gasped against her lips when she gently bit his lower lip. 

She ran her hands over his shoulders as she leaned into him. 

Hermione could feel that his arms were tense, and she grinned, drawing back from him. “My homework is that I am supposed to try taking the lead and the initiative.” She whispered into his ear.

“This makes things clearer.” Severus swallowed and nodded against her. 

Hermoine kissed down his face until she reached the juncture where his neck and jawline met. Pressing her lips to the uneven skin of his scar made him twitch, and Hermione smirked. Hermione pressed a firmer kiss against the spot and suck gentle as she drew away. There was no way to miss the shiver that went through him.

Hermione softly asked him. “Did that hurt?”

“If you keep doing that witch, you will have to entertain Sanguini while I shower.” Severus growled, and she felt him shifting under her.

“I don’t want to do that to you.” She chuckled, and she ran her fingers over his scars as she brought her face to his. “I want to be- I need to be a more active participant. I’ve been letting you do all the work and leaving you to care for yourself.”

“Hermione, you don’t-” Severus began to protest.

Hermione put a finger on his lips. “Shhh. I do. If I want to stop feeling like things are being done to me. That I am actually a part of what is going on, I do.”

“I understand.” 

His gaze was penetrative, and Hermione opened herself up to him.

She let him see the feelings that she felt for him and how this made her feel better already. 

Hermione let him know the part of her that desperately wanted to be normal and with him. 

He leaned forward and kissed her lips. “I shall do whatever we need to ensure your happiness.”

“Thank you.” She smiled against his lips. 

Her hands ran down his bare arms, feeling the sparse hair as she did. Her fingers ran over his, which were gripping the arm. Grabbing them, Hermione pulled his hands to her hips.

“I love you, Severus. I wish it had been _us_ from the beginning.” Hermione breathed, feeling the solemn truth of her words. Something in her chest dropped away like a weight was gone from her. 

His gaze shifted, and there was something there, something profound and hopeful. Hermione's heart fluttered with how intense his gaze was. It was as if he were utterly ensorcelled by her. “I wish that too.”

Floods of love and adoration hit her at once. She brought her hands to his face again, kissing him deeply. 

This was not heated and fumbling; it was slow and deliberate. It felt like they were having a whole conversation without words. 

Each touch was another proclamation of what they felt, another silent whisper. 

His hands ran up her back, and he was holding her to him firmly. It was like they were sharing one breath, and that breath reverberated with love. His hand cupped the back of her neck as she wrapped her arms around his. When their lips parted, Hermione felt it as almost a pain.

“I cannot get enough of you.” Severus gave her a breathy confession. 

Hermione nodded, her nose touching his. “I don’t want you to.”

He brought her in for another kiss. Her heart was drumming loudly. All she could hear was it, though she swore she could feel his pounding the same rhythm under his ribs.

  
  


“Ahem- I think I shall just-” Sanguini interrupted.

Hermione shrieked in surprise, nearly falling back off of Severus’s lap. Severus caught her, preventing the fall.

The vampire took a step back, his hands up. “Apologies. I was invited and thought I was expected. I can leave,”

Severus exhaled a deep sigh. “No need, you _are_ expected, we- got a bit carried away.”

“I was just doing homework.” Hermione blurted as she tried to regain her ability to think. 

Hermione pushed from Severus’s lap, his hands stabilizing her until she was on her own feet.

She looked at the floor for a minute, taking deep, steadying breaths.

  
  
  


Once she was sure her face wasn’t wholly a blush, she looked up at Sanguini smiling. “I am so sorry I screamed, I forgot you were coming. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“It is nice to see you in good health, Miss. Granger.” He nodded, still now halfway across the room from them.

Hermione looked at Severus, who had gathered himself and was standing now. 

Severus seemed to be trying to save the social call. “Thank you for coming, I am sorry I was not-”

“No need, Severus. It is not as if you were  _ in flagrante _ . It is not my place to judge what you do in your home.” Sanguini offered with a bow of his head.

Hermione could tell at that moment that she needed to leave them to their business matters.

Turning to their guest, she offered a smile. “I’ll just go make some tea. Nice to see you again, Master Sanguini.”

Hermione went to move from Severus’s side, but he caught her arm tenderly. She looked up at him, and he was still smiling. “You and I will finish this discussion later.”

“Absolutely. Now go tend to your business, I’ve got books to read.” She grabbed her bag and headed to the kitchen, leaving them alone.

“If you would, we can go to my study, it is in the attic.” Severus said, and Hermione heard them leaving the room. She started making herself some teach, still feeling energized from their kiss. It was as if their souls had reached out and touched each other. Hermione thought she could even feel his magic around her when they were kissing, but she was sure he hadn’t cast a single spell.

“Is homework your new nickname, Master Snape?” Hermione heard the vampire ask with a chuckle.

“Shut up, Sanguini.” Was the last thing Hermione heard Severus say before they were out of earshot.

  
  



	62. Oaths and Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

“Please, take a seat.” Severus offered his guest, still trying to shake the mingled feeling of embarrassment and arousal from his mind. 

Hermione had surprised him, and it had put him in a compromising position in front of Sanguini. 

His ears were still red in embarrassment; they were hot with it.

Taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind, controlling his emotions and tucking them into the places they belonged.

“Thank you for coming here, Sanguini,” Severus said as he sunk into the chair behind his desk. He folded his hands on the table.

Sanguini looked healthier, Severus observed. He was less ashen and even had a touch of pink to him. This led Severus to believe that he’d fed just before coming. 

Sanguini bowed his head as he took the seat offered. “I appreciate the trust you offer by allowing me into your home.”

Severus raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. He hoped that his tone would express how severe this matter was. “I think, at this juncture, that some measure of trust needs to be shared between us.”

“Agreed.” Sanguini’s tone of voice took on a similar seriousness to Severus’s.

  
  


The reason for this meeting sat between them like a heavyweight. 

Severus knew that neither of them wanted to be in this position, and he hated when he felt like powers beyond him were pulling his strings. 

Would he never be done with puppet masters and their schemes? 

It seemed that every time one died, another rose to take its place.

  
  


Severus eyed the man as he addressed the elephant in the room. “So, how did the Council get you into their employ? You sought to avoid them for so long.”

“The same way any being of power does. Threatens something of value until you are left with no options.” The vampire’s mouth shifted into a look of disgust as if he’d had an exceptionally lousy drink. 

Severus assumed that the attacks on his person were not the actual reason. 

The candid admission was appreciated by Severus; it meant that there was some hope that they’d not be enemies in this.

“What do they have on you?” Severus asked, knowing all too well how one could be forced into service they neither wanted nor asked for.

Sanguini reached up, rubbing his forehead. His expression was pained, as was his voice.“A long list of human companions that I’d rather not see meet messy ends. And of course, the power to exterminate me, should they show in full force.”

So the council had resorted to death threats on Sanguini’s friends. This explained why he didn’t just leave the country. 

If he did, they would be at the council's mercy and removed with extreme prejudice until he returned to stop it or there were no more left.

“This is not a comforting addition to the idea that they want to meet with us.” Severus let his lips curve down in a slight frown.

Sanguini’s shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. It seemed that he was not enthralled with this idea, either. “It is not. Honestly, were it any other way, I would take that route. While I do not regret my interference on Miss Granger’s behalf that night, I fear I’ve brought on more trouble to her than help.”

  
  


That night had been one that Severus had been trying to forget. Severus knew at the moment that Marietta dove for Hermione that there was no way he could have moved fast enough to save her. If Sanguini had not thrown his lot in with them, it would have been likely that they both died there.

“She is alive because of you.” He admitted, regret touching the edges of his words.

Sanguini shook his head, tapping his index finger against Severus’s desk thoughtfully. “No, she is alive because of the effort of both of you. I merely balanced the scales.”

Severus shook his head. He knew by looking at the man that what Severus had said was right, but he refused to accept the acclaim for it. “Humility gets you no favors.”

“I find it suits me.” The man smiled at him, a flash of retracted fangs in the expression. It would have been threatening if Severus didn’t know that Sanguini was going it for dramatic effect. Arrogant vampires are often short-lived. He could understand Sanguini’s position, at least in that aspect.

  
  


It was the need for survival that Severus had to discuss now. Vampires were notorious for doing anything to ensure their survival. 

While Sanguini had proven both a friend and an ally, that did not mean that he could not become an enemy. Severus understood fickle loyalty better than most.

It was a delicate situation, but Severus found that he was low on social graces with his earlier embarrassment. 

Besides, the working relationship they’d developed in months previous let him know that Sanguini hated drawing out the more critical aspects of the conversation. 

They shared that opinion.

“Forgive my bluntness, but how do I know that you are not going to turn on us to save your long list of human companions.” Severus fixed him with a probing look. He was watching for signs of deception.

Sanguini looked unaffected by the question. He nodded as in respect before answering Severus. “I expected the question, Master Snape. I do not know what assurances I can give you, but I mean it when I say that my loyalty lies with you and myself.”

Severus sighed, but in drastic times, drastic measures would be needed. “A true Blood oath? While I am usually against the sort of thing, as similar things have been used against me, I am not willing to risk Hermione’s life on potentially empty words.”

The vampire let out a bark of laughter, grinning as if he’d been told a joke. Severus wasn’t absolutely sure how to take it, so he waited and watched. 

“You are a very clever and very well-read man. I will offer such an oath if it suits you. Do you have a knife? I’m sure you have no desire for me to use my teeth.” Sanguini said, standing from his seat.

Severus sighed, standing as well. He’d read up on the various oaths that Vampires took when he’d heard the vampiress Marietta talk about a solo contract. He needed to understand the terms of it, and he’d come across true Blood Oaths. Unlike the more common blood oath, which had many workarounds, this was the sort of promise that replicated the Unbreakable Vow. To swear it would put your immortality on the line, something vampires only did when serious.

The fact that Sanguini was willing would have been enough for Severus if had been his own life on the line. But he had made promises to himself that he would do anything to protect her. 

He drew a knife from his desk drawer, mentally cursing that he’d done more blood magic in the last year than he’d done in the near-decade prior.

“I have no desire to be bitten by you,” Severus explained, displaying the knife to Sanguini as he rounded the table.

Sanguini demonstrated on himself where to open the vein with the knife. Taking in a deep breath, Severus did the same, gritting his teeth against the pain. They clasped hands as if they were about to arm wrestle, but took a step closer so that their forearms were aligned, the incisions meeting.

Sanguini’s eyes seemed to expand and recede, and Severus got a very up close and in-person view of what he looked like as the beast rather than the man.  The words that fell from Sanguini’s mouth were almost physical with the amount of power in them. It made Severus’s gut clench, as it momentarily drew him back to the vow he’d made to protect Draco. 

“I swear upon my life and this blood that I will stand by your side, Severus Tobias Snape, as your ally and protector against the Council. With this bond between us, may my conviction never falter. May I not be twisted to be used against you. I will do everything in my power to protect you from the Council’s duplicity, manipulation, and ire. Should I fail in this, may the Earth swallow me whole, and my bones return to dust.” Sanguini swore with finality.

Severus felt the magic settle between them, vibrating with a need for acceptance, and he took in a breath. “I accept your oath, Sanguini, let this be a covenant between us.’

The smell and taste of copper filled Severus’s senses. The power of the oath seeped into them both at the point where their blood met. Severus could feel it run over his skin. Slowly, the room took on its familiar atmosphere. He watched as Sanguini’s eyes returned to normal, the fangs retracting.

Letting go of him, Severus watched as he collapsed back into the seat with none of his customary grace. Sanguini no longer looked pink, but closer to his standard pale color.

“A moment, that sort of power requires a bit of rest. Fortunately, I fed before I arrived.” Sanguini said wearily.

Severus reached for his wand, closing the incision on his arm. “Take your time.”

Moving back around the desk, he retook his own seat, reflecting on what had just occurred. 

Severus had never seen that kind of magic before; he’d read about it, yes, but being a party to it gave him more respect for the man sitting across from him. 

  
  


Silence pervaded and settled over the room. Severus wanted to give Sanguini as much time as he needed to recover.

“It is good to see that bond between you and Miss Granger is growing.” Sanguini broke the silence, giving him a smile.

Severus raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Pardon?”

Sanguini chuckled. “The soul bond.”

“Please don’t tell me you believe in _that_ rubbish.” Severus groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He did not take Sanguini for the superstitious type at all. He’d lived long enough to see most of them for what they were.

“Perhaps Severus, one such as you, who is well versed in old magical bonds between vampires and their blood, should examine yourself for that  _ ‘rubbish _ ’ as you call it. Because based on what I have been told, and what I have witnessed, I believe you might be soul bound.” Sanguini seemed amused as he spoke, sitting up straighter and grinning.

Severus frowned derisively. “Soul bonds are superstition used to convince people they are not powerful enough alone.”

Sanguini leaned forward now, placing a hand on the dark wood of the desk. His dark eyes met Severus’s with something akin to suspicion. “You mean to tell me that you do not feel more powerful when you are in her very presence. That nothing has happened that has made you feel as if you are more _ intimately _ connected that your bodies and presence.”

  
  


The man’s words evoked memories of their kiss earlier and how it felt as if she were a part of him, and he a part of her. A sensation of warmth and love filled him from head to toe, like an embrace from her. He shook his head; this was not the time or the place. Exacting his control over his emotions, he pushed everything back into their neat compartments.

“I’d rather not discuss this any longer. Our relationship is not what the council cares about.” Severus said firmly.

The devilish smile that the vampire gave him made him shaking his head. “Your diversion tells me much. And you are wrong. They are very interested in the relationship between you and Miss Granger.”

“Do they have nothing better to do,” Severus asked.

Sanguini’s mirth shifted to a more dire look. One that bore bad news and ruination. “The vampiress did not speak lies Severus. A seer in their ranks _did_ , in fact, see and prophesize events in alignment with you two.”

Severus placed his hands on his desk, the disgust evident on his face. “And you will know that I don’t hold like to hold much stock in those things.”

“You believed it about Potter?” The vampire retorted.

Severus found he had no arguments against that. For all her madness and drunken stupor, Sybil had been right on that. 

But that did not mean that every crackpot who thought they saw something was right.

It didn’t mean that what some older than dirt vampire thought she saw was even close to the point.

Severus growled. “That was different. And I’d rather not discuss that either.”

  
  


Sanguini held his hands up to him in surrender, settling back in the chair he’d been leaning forward in. “Very well. What would you like to discuss?”

“You said that you have some ideas for meeting places, I’d like to hear them.” Severus wanted to get to the point of this meeting; there was much to plan and prepare for.

The devilish looked returned to his companion. “You and I have very different ideas on the meaning of the word comfortable, and it is in both my and your interest that we start this meeting on the high ground.”

“Go on.” Severus already liked where this was going. 

  
  


For the next several hours, Sanguini laid out the possible locations and the various ways to put the council on the backpedal. It was risky, any endeavor that involved beings like this was. But that risk meant that everything had to be thought about beforehand. Severus had begun taking notes as the sheer multitude of options became more than even he could keep in mind. Sanguini had seemingly taken his position as liaison to learn as much as he could about the council. If Severus and Hermione wanted to come out of this alive, everything would need to be in writing, and with every loophole looked into and then summarily closed.

By the end of it, Severus wanted to just light all of them on fire and be done with it. If only it were that simple. But they had an operational plan, and Severus would start preparations. He’d need Potter’s help, but he knew when he explained the threat to Hermione, the man-who-won would be more than willing to offer his aid.

  
  


Sanguini looked toward the stairs going out of the attic study. “Does she know they wish to meet with you both?”

“No. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her.” Severus rubbed his forehead, looking over the pages he’d taken. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to panic or take steps backward in feeling better. The leaps and bounds she made in the past months were something Severus was equally protective of. When it was time, he would tell her, but not before. Not until he could provide her with a plan that made absolute sense to him.

“Is that not _dangerous_ , Severus, to keep her out of the loop on this,” Sanguini questioned, tilting his head at him.

A streak of fierce guardianship struck through him like a match. “It is my duty to protect Hermione and ensure that she can have a measure of _peace_ when all she has known is chaos. I will tell her when I know more, and I can be sure I can protect her.”

Sanguini bit his lip, and Severus heard the barest escape of a chuckle. “And you say you are not soul bond.”

“Sanguini, sometimes, there are other things at work than a magical imaginary bond.” Severus was frustrated with the man’s constant hints at this fairytale nonsense. 

Hermione was no more soul bond to him as he was to her. 

What they had was something that had naturally fallen into place, not some pre-destination from the stars or fucking _tea leaves_.

A knowing look went between them, and Sanguini nodded. “Ah, yes, you love her.”

“I do, now, have you anything else?” The admission was not as hard as he thought it would be, perhaps because he was adamant to prove Sanguini wrong.

  
  


Sanguini looked up as if he were thinking of something, breathing in deeply through his nose. “I think I will take my leave, I can smell your dinner is near complete.”

“Pardon?” Severus said, smelling nothing aside from the room's dust and the leftover coppery scent that still lingers from the blood oath.

A smirk was his response from the vampire as he rose from his seat. “Your paramour is cooking. It smells delightful. I’d hate to keep you from your meal.”

While he couldn’t smell it, he trusted the man’s superior sense of smell. 

His stomach did make a touch of protest when he realized that it was close to dinner time. “I appreciate that.”

  
  
  


Severus led the man down the stairs, and once he reached landing on the first floor, he could smell what Sanguini had been talking about. 

It smelled deeply earthy with some bright aroma that made his mouth water. 

His lips could not be controlled as a smile crept up through him as he descended the stairs.

Sanguini walked to the fireplace, bowing his head as he gathered some of the floo powder. “Until next time, my friend.”

Hermione walked out of the kitchen, looking between them. “Are you leaving, Master Sanguini?”

“I am, I bid you good evening, Miss Granger.” Severus watched as the vampire took her hand, offering a chaste kiss to the back of it.

She smiled and looked at him, imploringly as she gestured to the kitchen. “You could stay, I made curry?”

Sanguini smiled at her, and Severus watched the interaction curiously.“As endearing as your invitation is, I must decline.”

“Okay, well, thank you for stopping by.” Hermione sighed and stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. It was brief, and she let him go with a smile.

“My pleasure, farewell.” Sanguini offered, taking the powder and leaving them both alone.

Hermione looked at him with a tilted smile. “How did it go?”

“Very well. What was this I heard about curry?” Severus said, not wanting to talk to Hermione about the contents of his meeting. Not yet. 

* * *

Dinner had been excellent, and Severus was very appreciative of her cooking. To show his appreciation, he washed all the dishes and cleaned up while she changed into more comfortable clothes. He’d shaken his head when Hermione had admitted she’d not come upstairs the whole time to give them privacy.

He informed her that he had silencing charms in place, so she did not have to spend all her time downstairs. To his surprise, Hermione had not been upset, saying she’d gotten a headstart on her reading from her therapists. It was then that he found out that she had plural. Artimis had not told him that Leliana had partners in her practice, but he’d never asked.

The events of the day had worn him out, and when everything was cleaned up, and leftovers tucked away, he was on a one-way track to lying in bed. Changing in the bedroom into his sleeping trousers, he put his dirty clothes to the side to be taken care of in the morning. He laid down in the dark as he heard her leave the bathroom. The bed welcomed him with comfort, and he groaned into, his body appreciative of the rest.

He heard her padding toward the stairs, and he called out to her. “I’m already in bed; if I am asleep before you join me, I love you, and I hope you sleep well.”

The footsteps stopped for a moment, and he listened, wondering what she was doing. Then they grew closer. The door was pushed open, and he could see her silhouette.

“Are you alright?” Hermione’s voice filled the room.

Severus nodded and then sighed because he knew she could not see him. “Yes. Tired is all.”

“I think I echo that sentiment.” Hermione offered, and the door closed behind her, pulling them back into darkness. 

S everus rolled, grabbing his wand and shutting the house, the wards standing closed when they slept.

She slipped into the bed as he rolled over on to his back. “You do not have to come to bed if you are not tired just because I am in bed.”

He felt her hand slip over his skin as she curled into him. “I know that I want to be here with you, and I am tired.”

Severus felt his body relax into her as she wrapped around him. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her warm body close to him. 

Even though it was comfortable in the house, her warmth was something that he desired. “As long as you don’t feel obligated.”

“I never feel obligated to be with you.” Hermione placed a kiss on his chest, and he felt goosebumps spread from the place.

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “It relieves me to hear that.”

She pulled the duvet up over her legs and his. “Do you feel obligated to be with me?”

“Never.” He whispered, his other hand coming to run down her cheek.

“I love you.” Her words fell into his skin and went through his veins, centering on his chest's beating muscle.

He squeezed her to him. “And I, you.”

  
  


Hermione brought her hand to his chest and started tracing shapes into his skin. 

It wasn’t his scars; it was almost like she was writing letters into his skin. 

It was easy to relax under her gentle ministrations, and he laid his head back on the pillow. 

He rubbed her back through her shirt, his fingers pressing into the center of her back.

  
  
  


Even in this relaxed state, his mind would not let him sleep. So much weighed on him. Her fingers continued to run over his skin, now making long strokes between his chest and stomach. It left trails of warmth under his skin.

“So, do you want to tell me more about this homework of yours?” Severus whispered, shifting so that he could draw his fingers over her arm in their embrace.

Hermione stopped moving for a moment, and he thought he’d upset her. “Well, Dr. Dixon explained that I’m still in a passive state when it comes to intimate matters. Even with you, which please don’t be upset, I don’t mean to be.”

“Hermione, I am not upset; it makes sense. Go on.” Of course, she would think that he would be cross because of her coping mechanism. He pressed a kiss to her head, hoping to show her that his words were real.

He felt her hand press into him as she hugged him from the side. After a few moments, she started speaking again.“I need to move from passive to active, and he explained that I could do that by being the one who makes the first move. He says that he thinks you’ve been doing amazing with boundaries and everything.”

This was not something he was prepared for. His private nature was aghast that she’d spoke about what they did in private together to another soul. His logical mind and research into helping her recover firmly reminded that nature that this wasn’t about him; it was about her. Even though he did not like it. “I shudder at the idea of you explaining our relationship's intimate details, you know that.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was small and as if she’d committed some grave offense.

_Idiot…_ Severus groused at himself.

He lifted his head, shifting as he caught her chin to look up at him. His eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out the details of her face. “Don’t be. As long as it helps you, I can get beyond it.”

He offered a kiss in apology for making her feel poorly. She pressed into the kiss, and he could feel Hermione smiling softly against his lips. Severus released her, and she settled back on to his chest.

  
  
  


“I have other homework too. Some of it I need Viktor to help me with?” Hermione whispered, her fingers beginning.

An explosion of jealousy ripped open in Severus, and he jerked his head up, eyes narrowed in the darkness. “Excuse me? What intimate matters do you  _ need _ Viktor for and not  **me** ?”

She jerked away from him as if she were afraid of his reaction. “It’s not an intimate matter, it’s-- being off my feet, being picked up.”

Severus took in a deep and calming breath, being surprised himself at the intensity of his feelings.  He rubbed his head and flopped back on the bed, feeling like an idiot. “I don’t follow. Why do you need him for that?”

Hermione was sitting up at the bed, looking at him curiously before she touched his arm. “I don’t want to hurt your shoulder, but I need to be put in a safe position and try to stay calm while I get picked up. I’m supposed to start really slow. And, besides you, Viktor is the person I _ trust. _ ”

He sighed, reaching his arms out to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she allowed him to pull her close to him. “You know my shoulder is more than healed, Hermione. But I understand why you would want to involve Mr. Krum; I would help him come to terms with hurting you in such a way before the ball.”

“So you would be fine if he came over.” Hermione’s voice was still quieter than average.

Severus was cursing his reaction, running his hands over her back, trying to soothe the anxiety he’d obviously roused in her. 

Severus knew that Viktor was not a threat to their relationship; he knew that Hermione saw him as her best friend and almost a bigger brother. 

Even with their romantic history, Krum had always been respectful of Severus and his involvement with her.

“Mr. Krum is welcome as long as he is respectful of our home,” Severus whispered to her, knowing that the condition would be met regardless.

He felt her sigh, and her body melted into him. “You said it again.”

“Hmm?” Severus was confused at which thing had garnered this response.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, humming. “ _ Our _ home.”

“I suppose I did.” The smile that broke over his face would have spoken volumes if she could have seen it. He really did feel like it was their home. Even though it’d been barely a week, Hermione had already changed the house's whole feeling. He couldn’t imagine her not being here, as the time before that felt empty and like it was missing something.

“I like it.” Hermione hummed against him.

He ran his hands over her, pressing kisses over her skin. “I am aware.”

“I have a journal too. I’m supposed to record my daily going on and thoughts and emotions.” She explained to him.

Severus groaned in dismay, his fingers now running over her skin in a teasing fashion. “Ahh, and I suppose she wants to read it.”

“Yes.” Hermione giggled, her hips shifting away from him as he touched her.

Severus teased, wrapping an arm around Hermione. “Poor woman.”

“It won’t be that bad.” Hermione sighed, squirming against him as he began to actively tickle her.

Severus hissed playfully at her. “You were the only student in my history of teaching, who would manage to get a six-foot essay in two feet of parchment and still go over.”

“Maybe... you should have given... me more room... to write...” Hermione was laughing now, her feet kicking as she tried to get away from him. Severus pulled her over him, his hand wriggling over her side.

Severus purred at her. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have written a treatise in your first year?”

“Stop.” She cackled against him breathlessly. 

Hermione writhed, wrestling out from his arm.  She twisted in the covers, grabbing both his wrists in her hands and pushing them back to the bed. 

Severus looked up at her, grinning as she was panting above him. In the darkness, he could make out her outline, her shoulder's rise, and fall as her breath washed over his skin. Heat rose in him at the positioning he found himself in. Hermione looming over him, her hair casting a curtain around them. Amid the tired feelings, a desire for her began to stir. 

She seemed to realize how she held him to the bed and tried to let his wrists go, body freezing like she was about to bolt. Severus shifted his wrists, holding her hands so that she was still loosely holding his wrists. “It’s fine, I wouldn’t have let you do it if I didn’t like it.” 

“You sure.” She whispered with fear at him, and he felt her breathing hitch and a deep breath wash over him.

Severus pushed with his shoulders, lifting his head to press a firm kiss to her lips in reply.

The kiss set something off. 

Severus let her hands go, and her hands slid down his arms. Her knees rested next to his hips as he leaned back to the pillow. Her lips followed his, never breaking contact as she melted into him. Her hands were on his face. Severus groaned against her lips as one hand shifted to run over the scar on the side of his neck.

His hands moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her down into him. Severus felt his whole body reacting to her, blood rushing in the other direction as Hermione shifted her attentions to his face, her lips spreading fire.

“Fuck, Merlin.” Severus groaned as her lips found purchase on the incredibly sensitive skin on his neck. He felt it in his toes when she sucked against it. One of his hands found her hair, taking a handful as she continued to make strikes of lightning run through his nerves. 

It was the opposite of pain, but just as intense. Hermione had made him moan, and Severus would have felt abashed if his mind could function and focus on anything but her lips. 

Scar tissue was not supposed to be this sensitive, he knew it, but apparently, his body never got that memo.

“Hermione.” He hissed, feeling his erection pressing against the fabric containing it. Arousal flooded his senses.

Hermione hummed against his skin, sending more blood pumping to his groin. Her mouth moved down away from his neck, kissing and sucking along his collarbone.

He was hard, and Severus struggled to maintain control of the urge to roll his hips up into her. Everything in him wanted her, wanted to be with her, touch her, and worship her. His chest was tight as his other hand flipped down to the mattress, grasping a hold of the linen. His fist in her hair twisted with her touch.

He growled out her name, breathlessly trying to convey that she was pushing on his limits. That he wanted her, that she was his everything and that she was driving him mad. 

He didn’t even know what the words he was saying were, because a groan left him. 

She’d pressed her hips down to his, his member now between her clothed body and stomach.

“Let’s try something I read about,” Hermione whispered into his ear, one of her hands coming to his face as she pressed a kiss to his lips. Severus couldn’t stop his body’s response to the closeness, his hips pressing up into her of their own need. 

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t do anything as everything was absolutely focused on his painfully hard shaft. Severus’s lips fumbled against hers as he tried to breathe. Hermione stripped that ability away from him as she ground her hips against his.

“Fuck!” Severus choked out, the friction being enough to make him jerk into her again. If this kept on, he was going to explode into his trousers like a schoolboy. Unfortunately, the part of his mind that cared about that was not getting enough oxygen as she continued moving slowly.

Her breath was washing over his face, the kiss breaking as she pressed her forehead into his shoulder. Severus let go of the sheets and her hair, finding her hips. 

The need was too much, too great, and his controls were stripping gears. He rolled into her, and to his pleasure, she began to move with him. 

He didn’t care about anything but the friction between them, as it sent pulses of pleasure through his cock. 

A mind clouded with the bright mists of passion, Severus grunted with each out-breath, lost to the sensations. 

Hermione was gasping in his ear, her fingernails biting his shoulders.

It hit him like a stunning spell, his balls pulling up to his body, and he felt the explosion down his spine as he climaxed. 

He tipped his head back, her name and litany of curses leaving him as his hips jerked erratically. 

Severus’s heart was pounding in his ears, and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to catch his breath. Hermione was holding on to him, kissing his cheek.

He wanted to say so much, a flood of emotions slipping into his mind as the passion faded, but his tongue felt heavy against a dry mouth. 

His chest was still heaving, and every inch of him was still brilliantly warm with the fallout of his orgasm.

  
  


They lay there like that for several minutes until his pants began to get cold, and his mind was firmly back in place.

“Did you like that?” Hermione whispered against his ear.

Severus nodded, turning and kissing her affectionately. “I shall let you make assumptions from the reaction you created.” 

Suddenly, the concern for her crashed down on him.

_ Had he caused her to freak out and not noticed in his lust hazed mind. Had he gone against her wishes?...  _

Severus felt fear rise into his chest. His own discomfort about a wet and cold crotch was now forgotten in the face of the fact that he could have harmed her.

He shifted instantly, cradling her face. “Are you alright? Was it too much, did- are you panicking?”

“No, no, not at all,” Hermione said, the sound of laughter in her voice. “I was able to keep calm, I- it didn’t feel-- too much. Only once, when you grabbed my hips, but, you sounded--” Her words trailed off into a hum. 

Severus looked at her, trying to understand why she was smiling so much. In the darkness, he could see her grin. 

“You are sure? I am sorry, I tried.” He pushed her hair back, straining to look for signs of discomfort in her. He’d been such an idiot. Not only had he not been in control of his actions.

“Severus, shut up.” Hermione chuckled at him, pressing her face to his cheek.

Severus held her. “Hermione, are you sure you are alright?”

“I can’t- there arent’ words for it. _I did it!_ I got you off and didn’t feel-- bad. I felt, it felt right and Merlin, I liked it. Is that _weird_? I’m so damn excited about this.” She said, sitting up on his lap and reminding him that he was still wet and getting colder.

“I suppose, considering circumstances, no, it is not weird. However, I do need to get up as I have no desire to sleep like this now.” Severus gestured to himself.

Hermione rolled off of him and snorted. “I need to shower too, but you can go first.”

“You need to shower?” He sat up, looking at her curiously, wondering about the implication.

Hermione covered her face. He could barely hear the muffled words coming from behind her fingers. “Severus, my pants are only a little less damp than yours. We’re both kind of a mess. You were very, very excited.”

Mortification slowly slipped into his mind at the knowledge that he’d effectively humped her like a dog and made a mess everywhere. 

Exhaling, he rubbed his forehead as he got to his feet. The feeling of walking was not pleasant at all. 

“I shall be quick.” He breathed out, grabbing another pair of pants before making his way toward the bathroom.

He heard her giggle as she got up from the bed. The sound should have made him feel ashamed, but instead, he felt the smallest bit accomplished that she’d come this far. 

_ She said she was supposed to be taking baby steps… Ha… It’s Hermione fucking Granger… you give her something she can learn, and she starts running before she even crawls… _ Severus thought as he climbed into the shower.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	63. Coffee Cups and Triggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

The bed shifted, and Hermione woke, opening her eyes to see Severus carefully walking toward the door. Her lips curved into a smile as she watched his back retreat behind the closed door. 

Hermione adjusted into bed, rolling into his pillow. His warmth was still there and the scent of him lingering there. 

Her body was light as if she were made of clouds, and she couldn’t stop smiling. 

Even having just woken up, the satisfaction of her accomplishment the night before was still there. 

Hermione had put herself in a sexual position with Severus, and the fear didn’t stop them. 

For once, she was almost normal. 

A weight was off her chest; she felt like she was a few inches off everything’s surface.

Lingering in bed only as long as his warmth did, Hermione rose to meet the day with a bounce in her step. She went to her bag, opening it and digging through for what she was looking for. 

Her fingers curled around the porcelain, and she felt like it was right.

_ " _ _ Take the steps that feel natural and right. A little fear is healthy, but you have to decide if you are going to let the fear take over your life, or if you are going to decide to take control of it.” _ Dr. Leliana’s words slipped through her mind.

Hermione had made a decision that she was going to take control of it. It was the only choice she really had, the more she thought about it. 

Hermione was in a war again, but this time, instead of being a megalomaniac bent on her best friend’s death, it was her against the things within her that held her down. 

Hermione looked at the simple thing in her hand, realizing that it was the first step in something more, something that would be uncomfortable, but liberating.

Closing the bag, she almost skipped down the stairs, humming. Her prize was tucked behind her back, like a treasure.

“Dare I ask what has you in such a pleasant mood this morning?” Severus asked her, measuring the coffee into the water.

Tiptoeing to him, she pressed a kiss against his lips. “I’m just pleased with myself.”

“Oh, I suppose this has to be about last night?” Severus said, smiling against her lips. 

His hand swept around her, pulling her into his warmth. She lifted her hand up so that he could not tell what she had in her hands.

Hermione leaned into him, her face resting against his shoulder. “Among other things, yes.”

“Have I told you I am proud of you yet?” Severus hummed, and she felt it vibrate through her. 

His lips were warm against her hairline. Something about the sensation of being in contact with him grounded her, the lightness mutating into a sense of belonging. 

She sighed, shaking her head with amusement. “For nearly a half-hour before we finally succumbed from exhaustion.”

“Well, I am proud of you none the less.” He professed again, giving her another kiss before letting her go.

Hermione took a step back from him, grinning. “Thank you.”

His dark eyes moved over her, and she watched as his left eyebrow rose at her suspiciously. “Now, what have you behind your back.”

  
  
  


Bringing her hands around, Hermione held a black coffee mug in her hands. White letters ran over both sides of it, like a warning label. ‘A well-read woman is a dangerous creature.’ It was a silly thing, but it meant a lot to her because of when she’d gotten it in her life. 

Hermione held it up for him to see, and he tilted his head at her, obviously waiting for an explanation. Her smile widened, her cheeks rounding. “I- Ginny and Harry gave this to me when I got the Goblin Rights Act passed.” 

It wasn’t supposed to be a party or anything significant. It wasn’t like Hermione had had a birthday. It was meant to be just dinner with her friends and a few co-workers celebrating the success. Apparently, the Goblin Nation had no idea about that. When she arrived at the dinner, the whole place was decked out for her and paid for courtesy of Gringotts. Harry and Ginny had come in party attire, and Hermione was still in her court robes. It was chaos, but by the end of the night, she’d had more than her fair share of wine and was singing karaoke with Romilda and dancing with Viktor like it was her birthday. 

Before the night was over, Ginny had passed her a small gift bag while saying it wasn’t something big or special, but it would fit right on her desk to tell those pompous overstuffed gits who they were messing with. Hermione had kept that mug on her desk every day up until she left her job. Even when her life was falling apart around her, at work, it reminded her that she was just as dangerous, if not more than, the creatures she worked to help.

Shaking her head from memory, she continued explaining to him. “It’s my favorite mug. I think it’s time I leave this out in the kitchen permanently. Is that okay?”

Severus had a look on his face that was one she’d not seen before. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was nearing tears. His lips curved in a smile, and his words were soft as he reached out for the mug. 

His hands wrapped around her hands. “More than okay. Shall I clean it for you?”

The expression on his face took her breath away the more that she looked at him. 

Something about it drew her in. It took her a moment to recognize that it was some variant of hope. 

Severus Snape was looking at her with unveiled hope, and she couldn’t breathe under its weight.

“No, it is clean. I’d like to have my coffee in it this morning. And then, we can put it in the cabinet.” Hermione managed out, handing him the mug.

Severus took it from her and placed it next to his mug, putting the one she’d been using back into the cabinet in question. 

“Where mugs belong. Where  _ your _ mug belongs.” Severus whispered, and her knees wanted to give out right then and there.

Such simple words, but the meaning behind it made her heart want to explode.

She wrapped her arms around Severus, squeezing him in a hug. “How did you make  _ that _ sound so romantic?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Severus hummed, pulling her into him with a vice-like embrace. 

She was sure that he was not going to let her go if he had a choice. 

And if she were honest, she didn’t want him to.

* * *

The week seemed to fly by at the same rate that Hermione was reading. She’d devoured the books that she’d been given by Dr. Shade and Dr. Dixon and had gone on a search for more books on her own. Hermione knew there had to be some kind of magical self-help section in the wizarding world, and she tore through every book shop she could find to get what she was looking for. The poor clerk at Flourish and Blotts had been more than helpful, and Hermione had bought more books than she had in a year in one trip. 

She really found a massive lack in literature for what she was going through in the wizarding world, however. So much of it was geared toward making yourself better for your husband or overcoming your issues to be a better wife. And there were only two books that she could find on how to cope with divorce. She had no idea how deeply the issue was integrated into her culture until now. 

Hermione started having that feeling in her chest again, that drive that made SPEW and brought liberation to house-elves who desired it and liberated the Goblin Nation. The change was going to come, and Hermione felt like her sails were being opened by the impending storm's winds. No wonder divorce was so hard for witches.

Her therapy session with Dr. Leliana and Dr. Spencer when better than it seemed that they had expected. When she came back with all his books and asked for more, the man seemed to grow pale before heading to his office. When she’d talked about how she was starting to leave things in the house and talk about her journal, their praise was like earning and O on an essay. Hermione could do this, in the framework of learning, there was nothing she couldn’t do.

Her homework for this week was perhaps a little more intense, but she had put her mind to the fact that she would do it by the time that she had her next session. Her fear was going to have to take a backseat to progress, Hermione needed to succeed.

Severus was seemingly amused by her rather vigorous studying. Not that he didn’t benefit from it either. While it wasn’t a nightly occurrence, Hermione had brought him to keening under her more than once. It was, somehow, empowering, and she didn’t understand it entirely, but she liked it. Dr. Dixon said to just go with what felt natural and right. So she did. 

With the feelings of inadequacy starting to slip away, she could focus on other problems, which she was going to do today. Severus was at work with the Aurors, and Viktor had cleared his whole day to be with her. She needed him to help her with her fear of being lifted, which she hoped wasn’t a fear of heights.

  
  
  


The stood in the back garden, and Viktor looked very confused after explaining what she needed him to do. “You vant me to rise you off your feet, slowly?”

“Yes, but when I start to panic, set me down.” Hermione nodded, sensing that he was afraid of sending her into another panic. It was a genuine possibility, but she’d tucked a panic puff into her pants pocket, in case she needed to bring herself down without Severus there.

Viktor looked at her with concern. “Vhy are we doing zis?”

“It’s called exposure therapy. To get over the fear, I have to face it in a safe environment.” Hermione tried to explain to him again. It made perfect sense to her; it was like taking small doses of toxins to built up an immunity. It was like getting back on a bicycle after you fall because you know that it will get better the more practice you have. 

He nodded at her seeming to understand her finally. “My skŭp, you know you are always safe vith me. I vould never harm you.”

Hermione did know that she knew it in her heart that he would never hurt her, and it was why it had to be him that helped her. “I know, which is why I need you to do this for me?”

“If you insist.” He shrugged at her with a smile. It was one of those looks that he would give her when he thought she was indulging in madness, but he would follow her just the same. Viktor had given her that look more times then she knew it.

  
  


She stood in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, taking steady inhales. Viktor had his hands on her waist, and she could read that he was nervous. His shoulders were jumpy under her hands, and he kept trying to smile as if to scare the nerves away.

“Are you ready?” Viktor questions.

Hermione nodded her head. “Yes.”

She felt his hands tighten around her, and she held his shoulders so that he wasn’t doing all the lifting. She went to her tiptoes, and then he barely lifted her off of them. Panic started to strangle her, and she swallowed against it, closing her eyes.

_ I am safe. It is Viktor. He would never hurt me. I am safe... _

But Ron’s face swam into her vision against her will.

Hermione cried out, her chest heaving as her stomach clenched in fear. “No, no, stop.”

Her feet were immediately back on the ground, and she took a shaky breath. She wrapped her arms around Viktor, and he immediately hugged her back. His thick arms squished her to his broad chest, but the pressure was grounding. 

“I am sorry.” Viktor whispered into her ear.

Hermione shook her head, swallowing the fear back down. She would not cave into this; she would overcome this. “No, it’s okay, Rome wasn’t built in a day. Do it again?”

“But you are shaking.” Viktor drew back from her, looking at her like she was mad.

Hermione rubbed her face before shaking her hands. 

He was right; she was trembling from the fear. “Are you going to drop me?”

“Never.” The large Bulgarian man swore to her.

She nodded at him. “Then do it again, I need to know that I am okay, that this is safe.”

  
  
  
  


Viktor took in a deep breath, his head rocking side to side in a manner as if to ask himself what he’d gotten into as he put his hands on her waist again. 

Hermione appreciated him so much at this moment because she needed him to be the one to help her. 

“Ready.” He asked again.

Hermione already moved to her tiptoes. “Yes.”

For a second, it was fine. It was just Viktor and her, and she could breathe okay. 

That second was brief, and the punch in the gut from her fear took the air out of her. 

This time, her ex-husband's visage flashed through her mind was accompanied by the disembodied voice of Maria screaming for him to throw her to her death.

“Fuck, nope, no.” Hermione squealed.

She was terra bound again, and her knees gave out from under her. 

Viktor caught her elbows, steadying her. 

His brown eye searched her with concern. “Hermione, are you sure zis is helping?”

Hermione held on to him, doing her best to get her heart to settle. It was trying to escape her ribs through her throat at the moment. All she could do was nod at him as she gasped for air.

It took her a moment to draw in enough air that she didn’t feel like she was suffocating. “It is supposed to. I’ve read all about it. Just let me breathe, and we will do it again.”

“Hermione, I feel like I am causing you distress,” Viktor said, cupping her chin and looked at her with worry. She could see that he wanted to stop, but she needed to keep trying—at least one more time.

Hermione pleaded with him. “I promise this is helping, please.” 

“For you, anything.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment. She knew that it was for him; he was trying to ground himself. Viktor did it when he needed to focus, and the mind would not be still for him. Hermione closed her eyes, letting his need for calm help to evoke her own calm.

After a few quiet moments, he leaned back and put his hands on her waist. They walked through it just as they had before.

  
  
This time, she had a few brief seconds before the wash of fear took her over. Hermione tried to Occlude her mind from it, telling herself that she was safe. It didn’t stop the onslaught of panic that seemed to slide through her defenses as if there as nothing there at all.

“Okay, okay-- no!” Hermione screeched, and she was pulled into Viktor’s embrace before she could collapse to the ground.

Viktor sunk with her to the patio stones, cradling her to him. “I zink zat is enough, for now, Hermione.”

She was shaking as he pat her hair down against her.

Hermione was frustrated with herself, but she had to know her limits. “Yes. it is.”

  
  


There was banging the yard next to them, and Hermione shook her head. Of the two neighbors, the Vanders were the loudest. The Richardson’s hardly made noise, unless you counted Mrs. Richardson singing to herself while she was in her own garden. That wasn’t the same; it was sort of endearing.

“Oi, Snape that you again with your bint?” 

Hermione groaned, rubbing her forehead. After the last encounter with Brandon, she had no desire to speak with him ever again.

Viktor asked her quietly. “Vho is zat Hermione?”

“The neighbor, ignore him, he’s an idiot.” Hermione offered, getting to her feet. She extended her hands to Viktor, who got up with a great groan.

Brandon’s loud voice carried to them both. “That doesn’t sound like Snape?”

Hermione started dusting her clothing off as she heard the sound of metal along the garden wall. Brandon’s red hair and freckled face showed up over the fence, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Oi, who the fuck is you? You already moving on to the next john?” The idiot exclaimed.

Hermione clenched her fist.

Viktor touched her arm and looked at her with concern. “Hermione?”

She nodded her head at him as she turned to face Brandon. Hermione hated him. She wasn’t sure exactly why, but he evoked such strong emotions in her that she thought she could light him on fire with a look if she really wanted to. “Brandon, didn’t Severus tell you to stay down from the garden wall. Don’t you remember what happened last time.”

Brandon tucked his arms on to the top of the wall, shrugging. “Yeah, I got a new ladder, the old one broke. So, how much you charging him, he’s a big bloke.”

Viktor looked at the intruder with a perplexed but dark expression. “Charging?”

“Oh shit, boy, you don’t know you are paying for what you are getting?” Brandon laughed obnoxiously, his head tipping back.

Hermione’s gut clenched. 

  
  
  


“Vhat is he talking about?” Viktor asked, looking at Hermione. She could see that his expression meant that he had an idea what he was saying, but wanted her confirmation. Viktor wasn’t stupid in any regard.

Hermione let out a deep sigh, crossing her arms and leaning back a bit. “He thinks I’m either a mail order bride or a prostitute.”

Brandon leered at her openly, his eyes running over her. It made her stomach flip inside out with revulsion. “Maybe both. I’m telling you, I’m willing to pay for that ass if you wanna come around this side of the wall.”

Hermione watched as Viktor ignited into a rage before her eyes. He started cursing in Bulgarian so fast that she had no idea what he was saying. 

“ _ Da chetesh konsko evangelie _ . You dare talk about my skŭp in such a fashion you  _ laĭna za mozŭtsi _ . I vill bend you into a pretzel and make you kiss her feet for forgiveness, you kopele”

Viktor was halfway across the garden before Hermione was in front of him, her hands on his chest, imploring him to not give the neighbor the beating he desperately deserved. Hermione did not want Viktor to get in trouble over it.

She pleaded with him, even as he was standing there, shaking with outrage. “Viktor, he’s not worth it, I promise you, he is a sad, lonely man who lives with his parents and has nothing better to do than try to bully people.”

“But, my skŭp, your honor, and Severus’s honor, zis cannot go unpunished,” Viktor said to her, his voice strained to be kind against the rage in his face. Hermione was afraid for anyone on the other side of that ire.

Brandon continued to goad from the other side of the wall. “Ohhh, he’s a friend of Severus’s. Makes sense, group discount, huh?”

“I will rip your skin from your bones, shiban kozel!.” Viktor snarled, and he stepped around Hermione, his dark eyes hyperfocus on the man pressing his buttons.

Brandon seemed unaffected by the raging mountain of man coming toward him. “Come on, big man, I’m right here.”

Hermione, however, did not want Viktor going to jail over murdering him. 

She wrapped her arm around his arm, trying to pull against him toward the house's back door. “Viktor, no. Let’s just go inside.”

  
  
  


Severus walked out of the house in his teaching robes, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. Hermione looked at him with desperation, hoping that he could help her stop Viktor from murdering the muggle next door. 

Severus seemed to follow Viktor’s murderous gaze and his eyes narrowed. “What do I hear out here. Brandon, why are you on my garden wall again?”

As soon as Viktor heard Severus’s voice, he stood up straight, shoulders back as if it were an involuntary response. Hermione stood in front of him again, her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him.

_ Severus was here, calmer heads would prevail…  _ She told herself, focusing on Viktor, who still looked like an angry bull ready to charge.

“Your prossie is doing a john in your backyard, and you are worried around me?” Brandon said with a laugh, pointing at Hermione and Viktor.

Viktor took a step toward Severus, pointing angrily at Brandon. “Professor, I cannot let zhis dishonor be unspoken for. He insults both you and Hermione.”

Hermione watched as Severus’s gaze seemed to reflect Viktor’s anger. Perhaps her assumption that Severus would be calmer was not well placed because she feared she now had two angry men to keep from murder.

Hermione made for the door, hoping to guide them inside. Maybe, if they got inside, they would be able to calm down. Perhaps if they got inside the nauseous feeling and the fear in her mind's back would go away. 

“Viktor, Severus, let’s just go inside.” She said calmly.

Severus shook his head, looking at her with flared nostrils. His whole body read like a novel of indignant fury. “Hermione, I think your friend and I share sentiments. I will not have you spoke about in such a manner.”

Her heart seemed to falter at the realization that he was already too angry to reason with.

“Oh, two on one, eh, let me call the boys, and we can give you a proper trouncing, like old times, Severus.” Bradon said, and Hermione turned to the ginger, eyes narrowing

_ What the hell did he mean by that?... Like old times… _ Hermione’s mind started turning over the words, thinking hard on the implications.

Severus moved to stand next to Viktor, his arms crossed dangerously. “If you mean the overweight and dysfunctional drunks you all your friends as the boys, I can certainly oblige you all with a proper arse-kicking.”

Viktor growled. “And you’ll find that he won’t be alone.”

  
  
  


_ If that is the case, he was one of the ones who hurt Severus before Hogwarts, when he was just a little kid… Oh- hell no… _ Hermione’s mind snarled.

Hermione moved now, standing before both of the angry men on her side of the fence, her head turned to the side as she narrowed her brown eyes at him. “I’m sorry, what do you mean  _ like old times _ ?”

“Didn’t he tell ya sweetass, he couldn’t hold his own when he was a boy. We’d drag his ass around this lane.” Brandon smirked, wiggling his eyebrow at her like he’d just given her a great pickup line.

Fire curled up in her stomach as she heard his words.

She growled at him, her fists clenching. “You were one of Severus’s  _ bullies _ ?”

“Nah, lass, we just tossed him around, made sure he knew his place.” Those last words were the final match on a powder keg.

Hermione was moving forward now. Her mind was focused on breaking every bone in his body.

Those words. 

_ ‘Make sure he knew his place’ _ echoed in a different form from a different voice. 

_ ‘You need to know your place, Moine, that is why I do this, why do you make me do this.’ _

Hermione screeched, already putting her foot on Severus’s carefully cultivated garden bed, so close to grabbing him around the throat. “I will  _ kill _ you, and when I am done with you, there will not even be enough for your mother to pinch between her fingers.”

Hands were around her waist, pulling her back, and Severus’s breathed in her ear. “Hermione.”

Hermione tried to shake him off, shaking with rage. “No, _ ‘putting you in your place,’ _ that is the same kind of bullshit that  **RON** did.” Hermione didn’t even look away from Brandon. “You wanna teach someone their place, I dare you to try that shit with me, I fucking  **d a r e** you.”

Snarling, she slipped through Severus’s grip, racing again to be the one to get to him. To wipe that smile off his face, to claw his face, to utterly break him. Hermione wanted to commit violence upon his person with extreme prejudice. She was going to climb the wall with her bare hands to get to him.

“Skŭp, perhaps yes, we should go inside.” It was Viktor now who had her arm, holding her back from climbing the wall and doing bodily harm.

  
  
  


The ginger was laughing now, mocking her. It incensed her, and she jerked, trying to get away from Viktor. His hold on her was stronger than she could break from, however.

Hermione hissed at him, full of unmitigated anger. It was coming from deep within her, like a volcano in her core. “Come on, I’ll even come to you, you fucking cocksucking twat.”

Severus stepped into her view, a wall of black cloak blocking her from seeing the scum on to the top of their garden wall. “Mr. Krum, please get Hermione inside before she does, in fact, murder him.”

“Come on, love, he’s not worth it.” Viktor started to pull her toward the door. 

Hermione leaned toward the ground, trying to use leverage to keep him from moving her. “I am  _ not _ leaving Severus out here with him.”

However, Viktor was more than capable of getting her to the door. Regardless of how much of a fight she put up.

“Aww, your girly wants to protect you,” Brandon said with mischievous laughter.

Severus sighed angrily. “My lady is more than capable of dealing with you on her own. However, that is not what is going to happen.  _ Get. Off. my. Garden. wall. _ ”

“Make me.” Brandon teased, and Viktor stopped pulling her for a moment. 

They both watched as Severus sighed and turned toward the door. “You asked for it.”

  
  


Viktor shifted out of the man’s way. “Severus, vhere are you going.”

Severus’s agitated reply had him look at Brandon with narrow eyes. “To speak with Mr. and Mrs. Vander, before I call the police.”

“ _ Coward. _ ” Brandon smirked.

  
  


Severus gleaned around him and swooped down, grasping a stone in his hand. Hermione could see that his black eyes were nearly nothing by the pupil. His face was red, and his lips were curled in a snarl. Severus pulled his hand back behind him, whispering something. The rock left Severus’s hand and hit Brandon square in the forehead, sending him careening off the ladder with a solid thud.

The man let out a shrill scream. “Oi fuck, you are gonna regret that, Snape, you and your whore.”

“Stay off my wall!” Severus panted, his hands both clenched.

Hermione looked at him with shock, wondering how in the hell he made that shot and angry he didn’t throw something heavier.

Brandon was wailing on the other side of the wall.

“Let’s get inside,” Severus said, opening the back door for them.

Viktor had let Hermione go, and she walked into the house, still shaking from the rage in her chest.

  
  
  


Hermione moved to lean against the counter, holding her head in her hands. She heard Severus and Viktor enter behind her, but she didn’t lookup. Her blood pressure was through the roof, and her chest hurt. The fear was gone, but the slow, boiling anger did not feel any better.

Severus sighed from the kitchen table. “That was a rather unwelcome way to come home.”

“I am sorry, Severus, we were working on my exposure therapy,” Hermione said, turning around with a deep frown. He’d been working the whole day with Aurors, who he had told her were both idiots and bastards and came home to that. Her shoulders drooped as shame added to the cocktail in her gut.

Severus looked at her with a sour expression, shaking his head. “Why are you sorry? You have every right to feel safe in your back garden. He has no right to take that from you.”

“I can go over and knock ze snot out of him for you, professor,” Viktor said, leaning on the wall against the door. Hermione could see that he was still angry, his arms were crossed, and he kept his body close to the backdoor, like a guardian.

Severus looked at the man who was standing behind him, shaking his head. “I appreciate it, Mr. Krum; however, I do not think that is necessary.”

“He called our Hermione a whore. It’s beyond needed.” Viktor argued with Severus.

Hermione rolled her head, trying to relieve the tension in her head that was growing.

“Yes, I am aware, Mr. Krum, but sometimes, with these types of fools, violence is only meant with more violence,” Severus replied in a defeated tone of voice.

Hermione was currently of the mind that the neighbor needed a solid beating. Even if it was out of her character, he brought something up in her that she loathed. “My father used to say that _ ‘I don’t suffer fools gladly, but I’ll gladly make fools suffer.’” _

“Your father is a wise man.” Viktor offered her.

As if she needed more emotion, grief wove into the blend that was becoming the long island iced tea of feelings. Hermione felt too emotional to be around them, everything ached, and now her head started to throb. “He  _ was _ . He was the  _ best _ of men. If you excuse me, I think I need to go lie down, my head suddenly hurts.”

Turning from the counter, she headed for the hall, seeing the respite of their bed.

She heard Viktor call after her. “Hermione.”

“That is her politely asking for space, Mr. Krum, let me make you a bit of tea, I need it for my nerves now.” Severus’s voice faded as she ascended the stairs.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Severus joined her in the room. She had been lying there, trying to untangle herself from her feelings and not feel like she was going to explode.

“May I join you.” Severus asked her in his shirtsleeves and wool trousers.

Hermione placed her palm over her eye. “Mmhmm. Just be quiet. My head is pounding.”

“Have you taken anything?” Severus whispered, his deep voice much quieter as he sat on the bed.

“No.” She breathed out through the thumping inside her skull.

Hermione felt him get up from the bed that he’d just taken a seat on. 

“Why not, you stubborn woman.”

“Don’t want to move.”

Severus sighed at her. “I’ll bring you a potion.”

“Okay.”

  
  


Hermione had her eyes closed when he returned, she heard his footfalls come around the bed.

Severus’s long finger tapped her chin. “Open up.”

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, taking the potion offered to her.

He then began to rub the ointment on her temples that he’d put on her when adjusting to the new glasses. Hermione let out a breath, relaxing into his touch. After a few moments, she didn’t want to murder every sound she heard.

He crawled into bed with her, and she turned, burying her face into his shirt to block out all the light. 

Slowly she felt the potion starting to take hold, the pressure slowly receding.

“Better now?” He whispered, holding her to him.

“Mhmm.”

Severus rubbed his hands over her back; she could feel it through the fabric of her shirt. “You worried me earlier.”

“Hmm?” She was curious now of when exactly he was worried.

“You looked like you were going to go through the wall,” Severus explained.

Hermione shook her head, pulling back a little from him so that her words were more exact. “He- something about him just sets me off and then thinking about him hurting you. I- it’s not going to happen. Not while I’m here.”

Fingers pulled through her hair, massaging her scalp, and she closed her eyes with the pleasure and pain relief of it. 

Severus’s whispered voice crept over her. “Hermione, does this have anything to do with the fact that he is a ginger loudmouth who looks too close for comfort but not enough to match to your ex?”

Hermione’s eyes shot open.

She’d not thought about that. 

But now. 

It made sense. 

“Merlin’s fiery trousers.”

“I take that as you’d not thought about it,” Severus said quietly, still gently touching her.

She shook her head gently. “No, but now I really want to kill him.”

“Pay him no mind.” Severus rumbled, pressing a kiss to her brow.

Hermione wondered aloud about something that had been bothering her. “How do you still live next to him?”

“This is my house. I’m not letting him chase me from it.” Severus spoke as if it was the only acceptable reason.

Hermione found she could not argue with him. “Makes sense.”

“Good, now rest. I had a long day, and I desire nothing but lying here with you.” Severus murmured against her forehead, pressing kisses to her.

Hermione couldn’t argue with that either. Snuggling into him, she let his quiet presence bring her relief from the blowout of her emotions. 

She’d write about them later; this was more important.

* * *

  
  


Mimi!

This letter was much easier to send, glad you have a regular address. I hope that you are having a fantastic summer. I told mum that you agreed to come to supper, and she is so excited. She wants you to bring this mystery man that you say you are seeing. Is it that hunk front he day you got your glasses?

Anyways, I wanted to make sure you knew that your followup appointment is next week on June 20th, at 2 pm. See you there. 

Love ya,

Lucy

* * *

Miss Granger

I am writing to let you know that everything for the trial against your ex-husband is arranged as need. All witnesses have made their written statements, and we have been assigned a Judge. We will be overseen in this case by Judge Merriweather. He is fair, and I have been in his court many times before. He will not tolerate the sort of circus you were subjected to as well.

I would also like to inform you that I was asked by another client of mine if you would be willing to speak to her. She is currently trying to get a divorce as well and choose me because of your case. If you are amiable, we can arrange a meeting at my office. You have brought me quite a bit of work because of your case. 

It is a shame that you aren’t a lawyer; I’d hire you instantly for all the research you were able to do for your own case. After hearing about your work in the DRMC, I bet that you’d be a damn good defense lawyer.

But I lose myself. I look forward to hearing from you, Miss Granger, and I hope you are in good health.

Regards.

Barrister Greengrass.

* * *

  
  


Hermione,

I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to make sure you were doing well. There have been some rumors that you have been in bookshops all over the countryside. Other than that, no one knows where you’ve disappeared to for your summer. I've been focusing on other more essential stories, too, just to give you some privacy.

The article on your dance with Professor Snape in the Prophet was possibly the most tasteful piece I have ever seen them publish. The new advice and gossip correspondent is fantastic. His name is Dennis Crevey, have you met him? Cute as a button and sweet as pie. I thought they were going to devour him, but that man has an iron will. You could say I have a little bit of a journalist crush. 

How are you doing? And where are you? Are you with Snape? Oh, you know I want details purely for my own curiosity, on my magazine’s honor.

I hope you are well and when you get a chance, come by, I’d love to do an article on how you are doing now after the divorce.

Sincerely

Romilda Vane

Editor of Witch Weekly

* * *

  
  


Miss Hermione Granger,

Here is your new batch of potions since my records show you should only have one week’s dose left. Prescribed for Once a week, the same day every week. Side effects as per usual. I would like to have you set up and appointment so that we can assess your progress. Within the next three weeks, if you could.

I hope that the pain has subsided and that you can enjoy your summer.

Healer Artimis T. Shade

Supervisor 

St. Mungos

  
  
  
  
  



	64. Solutions and Interuptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He sat in his chair in the library, trying to pull together some resolutions for a problem that had been his but was now becoming Hermione's.

His outer robes had been shed when Krum had excused himself, and they were now draped over the back of the chair.

Severus was frustrated by the fact that it had gotten to this point. He wasn't sure what was urging his neighbor on, but if he didn't do something soon, he might not be there to keep Hermione from killing him.

Or from Severus doing it himself. The man had made him mad enough to throw a rock at him.

Brandon had to be dealt with. 

While he was a nuisance to Severus, he had become a problem for Hermione.

Severus had no desire to have her murder the beastly idiot.

He’d never put protections in place because he didn’t feel it needed. Severus got to his feet now, because it was more than past time to do so.

He should have done something the first time that the man had insulted Hermione. Rolling his shirtsleeves up, he walked out the back garden.

The barrier spell would elicit a minor shock if Brandon decided to climb to the top of his garden wall.

The redirection spell on the inside of that spell would ensure that he would be instantly reminded that he needed to be somewhere else if he did look over.

A muffling charm on the other side would make it so that hearing anything from the Vander’s yard would be difficult.

It was a simple solution, at least Severus thought so, but it would be sufficient. Hermione could have the peace she deserved, and Brandon would no longer be able to be _—_ himself.

He did nothing to the Richardson’s side of the garden, only the back wall, and the Vander’s side.

His other neighbors were personable and kind, and he suspected that Hermione enjoyed the occasional small talk.

Once done, he went inside, fetching his cup of forgotten tea. A quick spell warmed it, and while it wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as a fresh cup of tea, he needed the calming sensation of it. It had been a long day all around. While Potter and many of his colleagues were eager to learn how to do a broomless flight, there were still several that did not _‘trust’_ him and continuously tried his patience. Disparaging remarks, posturing, trying to intimate Severus. If he were allowed to give detentions, a third of the force would be cleaning cauldrons tonight. Lucius seemed to think the whole thing was hilarious and had begun to turn the tables on them, trying to lure them to the dark side.

Unfortnately, Lucius's darkside was a bit to sexual for most of the young witches and wizards, so they started avoiding Lucius and started in harder on Severus.

Many of that group blamed him for Cormac McLaggen’s removal from the DMLE, which Severus would have agreed with because he’d made sure that Potter knew about his involvement. However, it had been somehow twisted that he’d been the one the make McLaggen participate in the scheme that had been his downfall.

Severus rolled his eyes; some Gryffindors never changed. Never seeing the faults of their own and looking for someone else to blame.

Severus’s shoulders slumped as he leaned against the counter. He was too tired, and he knew that she was likely so emotionally tangled that neither of them would be cooking anything tonight. He’d order in something later to save her from feeling like she had to take care of it.

He finished the drink and washed the cup. Drying it with a fling, he put it in the cabinet, just above Hermione's coffee mug. The fatigue faded a bit as the tingle of affection ran over his skin and through his bones. It had not been what he’d expected she would do that morning. He thought she had something she wanted to ask him about that was his.

But she’d stunned him with the action.

Since she’d come back into his life up to that point, she left nothing out. Hermione was diligent about keeping her things tucked in that old beaded bag and being ready to run at any minute.

Severus had recognized it early on that she was a flight risk.

When she told him that she wanted to leave something that Hermione considered her favorite out permanently, Severus realized that she finally felt safe.

With him.

She had the whole castle of Hogwarts around her, but it wasn’t enough.

But his poor falling apart house was. 

Because she felt secure and protected by him.

If he didn't know that he loved her before then, there was no denying it now.

He wanted Hermione to always be there.

It scared him, but at the same time, it felt right.

Hermione had said with a cup that she wanted to stay in his life.

It still choked him up a little, and he had to shake his head as he closed the cabinet door.

The act had started a slow transition of her leaving things around the house. She left her shoes by the front door, where he tucked his. It looked so domestic, and Severus thought himself an idiot for being so affected by it. 

But it did affect him.

Hermione was slowly moving into his home as she had slowly moved into his life.

Severus gave her cat a tired smile; he was sitting in his chair. Hermione had had long enough to herself. He wouldn’t let her stew herself into a mood. Severus ascended the stairs, leaving his robes behind and knowing they would be covered in orange hair when he came back to retrieve them.

* * *

**Severus,**

**I am surprised that I’ve not received a letter from you yet. How is Hermione? How are you? I suspect the living situation is very different for you this summer. I do hope you are enjoying it.**

**I spoke to the board, and we seem to have a bit of a snag. Vector’s contract gives her the right to do as she did. And the contract we signed with the new Muggle Studies teacher has them locked in for the next school year.**

**I am looking into options for bringing Hermione on as Pince’s assistant.**

**Don’t let her worry as I know she will. Hogwarts will always have a place for her, even if she isn’t a staff member. I will ensure it.**

**The highlands are as they always are in the summer, beautiful and relaxing. My hols are filled with cat naps and far too much quiet.**

**As I said, I hope you both are doing well,**

**Minerva**

* * *

**Severus,**

**I think you bring up some good points about my deviation from my research to other unrelated studies. Still, I feel that including some of the absolute nonsense published as fact is crucial to getting my point across. And yes, that was a mathematical error on my part in the twenty-seventh page. Long hours lend to mistakes, hence why I am forever grateful that you caught it. It made a real mess of my projections later on.**

**Shamus said he saw you round the Ministry the other day. Please tell me they aren’t dragging you and/or Miss Granger though more paperwork and madness. I hope not. Throw the Shade name around a bit you need to; I’ll adopt you if it means they get off your back.**

**Merlin, what a spectacle that would be, the bureaucrats would start eating their hats.**

**Speaking of bureaucracy, I’m sure you heard about Xaviar. Who would have thought he’d be taken out by creatures that have brains the size of a gobstopper. Suppose it best not to speak ill of the dead, but wanted you to know he was no longer among the living.**

**You were right about Malcolm. Shamus and I sat down and had a long talk with him about Abby. It seems he knew more than he was letting on. He was angry that we’d kept him out of it. I explained to him that I thought it was for his best interest. A lot of screaming and crying later, and I think we are in a better place. I hope that he will have a better seventh year, now that we are working on dealing with that grief as a family. He and Shamus actually had a long heart to heart without me, not sure what all it entailed, but hopefully, it helps them both. You know how young boys are, either love or hate their father. Shamus was afraid of it being the later for a bit there.**

**But I digress.**

**I have sent you the revisions and have included the new data from last month’s tests.**

**As always, I appreciate your time and send my warmest regards,**

**Artimis**

* * *

The windows were open, a breeze bringing fresh air into the house.

Hermione sat across his lap, her legs draped over the arm of it and her head against his shoulder. It had started with him reading on his own, not that he complained about the current positioning.  
She was the pinnacle of perfect companionship while he was working hard on Shade's research. Quiet, non-intruptive on his thoughts, but ever so present on his mind that when she snuggled against him that he would smile.

It should have been uncomfortable, but he didn’t find it so. Very little about Hermione's presence in his life did he find uncomfortable. He had to think hard to find anything at all. The only thing that came to mind was that he found her hair and her cats hair, everywhere. None of his clothes were safe from them, and he was very certain that she shedded more than the cat did. 

She’d been ‘renovating’ the bathroom, by which she was in there cursing and scrubbing and telling him that she did not need his help, _thank you very much_.

Severus had decided it was a safer option to occupy the downstairs, tucking into Shade’s research in the comfort of his overstuffed chair.

The study was too close to her raging against the plumbing and the chair down here was far more comfortable for reading the new data he'd been provided.

When she’d come down, looking weary and sad, it had been reactionary for him to open his arms to her. Severus was sure that she wasn’t even reading what he was; he thought he’d heard her snore a few times. Her fingers were wrapped around the collar of his teeshirt, the other arm around his neck.

How he had gone from a respectable wizard to a bed, he wasn’t sure, but if it were for Hermione, he would make the exception.

Hermione cleared her throat and leaned her face into his neck. “I love you, Severus.”

It still made his chest swell, even though he’d heard her say it so many times before.

Severus folded the notes closed, setting them on the side table before wrapping his arms around her. 

“I love you, Hermione.” He responded, closing his eyes for a moment and surrendering to the feeling of holding her.

In all his years, he never thought such simple pleasures would be his to enjoy. 

Hermione hummed against him and shifted in his lap, sitting up more so that she could press her forehead to his cheek. “I didn’t mean to disturb you reading.”

“You did not,” Severus said, moving to kiss her face. His lips found purchase between her eyebrows.

He felt her face move under his lips as she smiled, the hand around his neck, moving to tangle in his hair. “You know she bewitched that, right? I can’t read it because it looks like someone bastardized Sumerian across the page.”

Severus had suspected that it was charmed to hide its contents, but since he was the person it was meant for, he did not investigate the security. Even if Hermione could read it, he would trust her with the knowledge. 

“Mrs. Shade doesn't want anyone to corrupt her research.” He offered her, pressing his nose into her hairline. The smell of her was all around him, earth and warmth. 

“I can respect that.” Hermione agreed. 

He felt her words run under his chin, the breath washing over him.

Severus smirked, running his hand over her arm as he teased her. “I suppose you can, you and Mrs. Shade are _very_ similar in that regard. You lack the Slytherin Finesse, _of course_ , but overwhelm it with your Gryffindor stubbornness.” 

“Oh, aren’t you a funny man. The bathroom is done; I even decorated it some.” She explained with humor in her voice, her other hand moving from the collar of his shirt to dance along his chest.

He groaned, drawing back to look at her. “Please tell me it isn’t in red and gold now.”

“Oh yes, and I changed all the taps into lions that roar _obnoxiously_ when you turn the water on.” Hermione made a noise that was likely the most pathetic roar he’d ever heard and grinned at him.

He could see her doing that just to spite him. Severus snorted. “For both our sanity, I hope you jest.”

“I am joking. But there is a little more color than black and white.” Her brown eyes were sparkling with laughter, and Severus wished she looked like this all the time. Her happiness was almost contagious.

He offered with a raised brow. “Grey?”

Hermione’s lips fell flat like she was not amused, but she couldn’t hide the humor in her expression. “You know there are more colors than monochromatic, yes?”

“Of course, there is green and silver,” Severus smirked.

Hermione started laughing. “You are the most irritating--”’

Severus couldn’t stop himself; he kissed the words from her lips, wanting to feel her smile.

To be in close contact with her happiness. To bask in it and share it with her.

Hermione happy was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in the world.

Her surprise was short, and she was kissing him back, hands cupping his face.

Drawing back, he let the smug satisfaction of his action rest in his lips. “And yet you love me.”

“I really, truly do. I don’t think I knew what love was before _—_ _this_.” Hermione whispered the words like they were a secret.

Her words struck a chord in him. They made so much sense. Every notion of affection, desire, or misplaced love felt like a candle against a bonfire when compared to this. “That makes two of us.”

  
  


The fireplace flashed green without warning, and Harry Potter came stumbling through the floo, yelling.

“HERMIONE! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD HERMIONE! You have to come _right now_ , Ginny, I _—_ wow!" Potter paused, looking at them in the chair with wide eyes. "Sorry _—_ , but I _need_ you to come with me right now.”

His sudden appearance only shocked them for as long as it took for him to talk.

Severus didn’t know how they both managed to get to their feet with their wands drawn without falling, but it happened.

Potter looked flush, his face red and Severus visually looked for injuries.

“Is Mrs. Potter in danger?” Severus demanded, ready to follow the man should he say yes.

Harry was practically bouncing on his tiptoes. He shook his head at Severus, holding his hand up to him. “No, no, no, the _opposite_. She has news for you, Hermione; you have to come.”

“Uh, is she okay?” Hermione asked, and Severus watched as she reached out to still the man.

“Yes, yes, I promise, **no** danger; she is okay, she just wants you there, she has to tell you something, and you are going to be _so excited_ and I _—_ just please, _please_ come with me.” Harry Potter grabbed her hand; those wild green eyes beseeching them both.

It was evident by the way that Potter was acting that it was something of joy and excitement, not distress.

Severus took his seat, tucking his wand away. “Hermione, I think I will sit out whatever chaos is happening at the Potter Home as long as Harry can _ensure_ your safety.”

“Oh gods, so safe, **on my life,** Severus.” Harry looked at him breathlessly but seriously. “Come on, Hermione.”

Hermione looked at Severus and then her best friend. “Okay, give me a minute.”

Severus watched as she crossed the room, shoving her feet into her trainers.

Potter looked like a small dog that was about to wee himself on the carpet as he hopped in place, a look of manic excitement on his face.

Hermione came to Severus, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Severus kissed her back, tenderly.

He was a bit sore that every time they had a quiet moment in the library together that they were interrupted. 

“I’ll be here when you get back,” Severus whispered against her lips.

She drew back, giving him the softest of smiles. “I won’t be long, I hope.”

Potter made a noise, and Severus tilted his head around his witch, raising an eyebrow.

Harry Potter suddenly found something fascinating to look at, and Severus pressed another kiss to her lips.

“Be safe, and if you need me, send for me.”

Hermione smirked and drew back from him. “I will. I have to go before he spontaneously combusts.”

“Yes, he would mess up our living room.” Severus humphed, picking up his research notes.

They were gone through the floo as soon as Harry could get her into the fireplace, heading for the Potter house.

He did wonder what was so important that Harry practically demanded her to go with him, but he knew that the complexity of their friendship was not something that he desired to dissect at this moment.

No, he would wait, and she’d tell him when she came home to him.

That thought made him smile.

Her beaded bag was sitting on her pile of books by her chair. In its place, in _their home_.

  
  



	65. Not all News is Good News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

Hermione’s stomach was in knots even before she stepped into Harry and Ginny’s living room. 

Even though Harry had been firm that it was good news, something in her gut was already waving a red flag. 

“Gin, Gin, where are you?” Harry yelled, holding Hermoine’s hand still. 

He was bouncing like he did when he discovered that Quidditch existed. 

Hermione heard the woman in question shouting from the downstairs lavatory. “I’m in the loo!”

Shaking her head, she took her hand from Harry’s, he was sweaty and too jittery for her. 

Her nerves were on edge just by the way he was acting. 

Hermione desperately wanted to know what was so important that had Harry tumbling into her living room.

“I brought Hermione!” Harry yelled.

Ginny screeched. “ _YOU DID WHAT_?”

There was the sound of a door slamming, and Ginny’s hurried footsteps. 

Ginny came in from the kitchen, looking tired and ill. 

Her face, however, was angry as her eyes fixed on her husband. 

It was a look she had no desire to be on the other end of, so she took a safe two steps away from him.

Harry looked confused, the nervous excitement causing him to twist his hands. “Um, you _said_ -”

“ **Harry James Potter** , do you even use the _thing_ between your ears!” Ginny yelled, shifting to lean on the door as a pallor moved over her face. 

“Hermione I’m so sorry- I-” The redheaded woman ran to the sink, vomiting into it. “- _hit him_ for me, will ya?”

Her gut clenched again, and Hermione looked at Harry. “Why? What is going on?”

Harry looked shocked still and then looked at Hermione. 

His face seemed to shift from the look of confusion mingled with joy to something akin to abject horror. 

He reached back for Hermione’s hands, and she knew that something was wrong, and her gut had been right. 

_ Please let this be something else... _ She thought to herself, almost morbidly.

The dark-haired man started to stumble out words. “Um- _Oh shit_ \- I’m so sorry, Hermione, I didn’t think-”

Ginny came back from the kitchen, looking pale and not well. 

But there was something else there too. 

She gave her husband a backhanded thwap on the shoulder, and he looked at her. “Harry, go to the kitchen and make me tea with the stomach soother in it.”

They exchanged a look, and she watched her best friend mouth _‘I’m sorry’_ at his wife.

In the back of her mind, she already knew. 

She knew what was going on here. 

Her stomach was rolling with anxiety-- she wasn’t going to jump to assumptions. 

She needed facts.

“Is someone going to tell me what is going on.”

Ginny collapsed into the sofa with a sigh, holding her head. “Yes. Come sit.”

“Gin?” Hermione moved to her friend's side, concern mingled with that impending fear.

Ginny’s tortured smile brought no comfort. “My husband is an idiot. I said I wished I could tell you, and he thought it meant to go fetch you this instant. I swear he’s got no brains when it comes to this.”

“Tell me what?” Hermione’s hands tensed on the cushions.

Pale, freckled fingers reached for one of her hands, and Ginny gave her a squeeze. 

“I’m pregnant.”

It felt like she’d just been kicked in the gut. Precisely as if she had been kicked, in fact, as she exhaled, all the air leaving her.

“Oh...”

Hermione had known, the second she’d seen Harry dancing like a puppy what it had been. 

The last time he was like that was when they found out that Lily was expected. 

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to grab the reins of her emotions before they took off from her. 

“I’m so sorry, Circe, I’ll kick him in the bollocks for you if that will help.” Ginny wrapped her arms around Hermione’s shoulders.

Eyes closed, she encapsulated herself in ice, drawing back away from the thoughts and feelings, holding everything in. Occluding until she was as calm and clear-headed. She could not make Ginny feel bad about this. 

It wouldn’t be fair. It wasn’t her fault that an ache in her chest had reared its ugly head.

Hermione leaned back, plastering a smile on her face. “No no, this is  _ supposed _ to be a happy time. Wow- I’m so happy for you!”

_ She meant it. _

_ She  **h** **ad** to mean it. _

_ If she didn’t, she’d be a horrible person for being upset. _

“Hermione, you don’t-” Ginny frowned.

Hermione shook her head, biting her lip. “No, Ginny,  _ really _ , I’m happy that I’ll have another niece or nephew to spoil. How far along are you?”

She needed to take the conversation off her and her feelings. 

Already she could feel the emotions piling on her, and she had to be in control. 

“I reckon about eight weeks or so. Are you sure you’re alright.” Ginny asked her quietly.

Hermione could feel the pity in her eyes. 

She wasn’t alright. 

She wasn’t alright at all, and she felt like her insides were crumbling. 

Hermione kept her smile in place, hoping that it would be enough to appease Ginny. “Peachy.”

Harry came tumbling back in with a teacup and a mournful expression. “I’m so sorry Mione- I didn’t, just last time you told me you’d skin me if anyone else found out _before_ you and I’d just-” 

Ginny stopped him. “Shut up, Harry.”

He was right. Last time Hermione had been the last to find out. She’d been at the Burrow, and Molly was fussing over her. Hermione had commented on how everyone was acting as if Ginny was pregnant with James all over again. The whole room stopped and looked at her. Ron cleared his throat suspiciously and took her hand. “I realized I forgot to tell you, Mione. Gin’s got a babe on the way.”

She’d been so heartbroken to find out last that she had threatened Harry. 

But she didn’t think he would have been this daft. 

How could he not have known that this would open a wound deep within her? 

Remind her of what she would never have again.

Hermione had a hard time looking at him. Partly because she knew that he’d know her true feelings once he looked her in the eyes, and in part because he had been the one to hurt those feelings.

Taking in another deep, steady breath, she closed her eyes. Hermione was doing everything she could to control her emotions. 

Harry was stupid, but not intentionally hurtful.

Another smile, another nod-- she could get through this, and when she got away and alone, she could break down into a million pieces. “I’m very happy for you both.”

“Are you okay.” Harry knelt before her. 

His green eyes too held pity, and she couldn’t bear it.

Hermione stood up, her chest ached, and her eyes were starting to water. “Mhhmm, yeah.”

“I was going to wait a little while until I couldn’t--” Ginny offered in explanation.

Hermione turned away, wiping her eyes for a moment. “No, no, I’m happy you told me. These are _happy_ tears.”

“Hermione, please don’t lie to us.” Harry said, moving to embrace her.

She jerked away out of his arms. She didn’t want to be touched or hugged. 

If Harry hugged her now, she would collapse, and it wouldn’t be right. 

Her failures were not supposed to taint something like this. 

Her own inadequacy and inability to have more children should not make Harry and Ginny feel wrong about being able to.

“I’m not lying. I’m so excited. Another baby in the family. yay.” Hermione clapped her hands, trying to pour sugar into her strained voice.

Harry tried again. “Mione.”

She was cracking. 

Hermione needed to get out of there, and she wanted to go home. Needed to go home to get away from this and the noise in her mind making her feel guilty. 

Home to quiet and peace and no chaos and definitely no reason to feel like a broken woman because she could no longer do what her body was designed to do. 

She wanted to crawl into Severus’s lap and sob until there was nothing left to cry about. Hermoine wanted him to hold her, to have him soothe her and make her forget about the pain.

Hermione realized at that moment that all she wanted was Severus. “I need to go home, right now, and tell Severus. I- 'll talk to you later.”

“Hermione.” Ginny was on her feet now.

Hermione shifted toward the floo, reaching for the silt like powder and holding her hand out. 

Her smile was slipping out of place, and the tears were coming more profusely, but she refused to succumb. 

Not here.

“I’m fine, I promise. I promise.”

“Want me to floo with you.” Harry offered.

Hermione shook her head vigorously, scrambling for some excuse to have him stay here. She needed Severus, not Harry and Severus. 

“No, no, you won’t want to watch me snog Severus senseless with how happy I am. Just stay here and take care of Ginny. I  _ mean _ it, Harry, **don’t** follow me.”

Hermione stepped into the fireplace as Ginny turned on Harry, her pale face turning red. “You are the biggest idiot in the world, do you know that!”

“I thought-” Harry looked like a lost boy for a moment.

Hermione closed her eyes, throwing the powder down. “ _Spinner’s End_.”

  
  
  


The magic rushed around her, and Hermione found herself in their living room. The tears overrode the dam as she saw him, sitting as he was before she’d left him.

Hermione collapsed into his lap, and Severus caught her, confusion written all over his face. His arms pulled her to him tightly, and she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, her heart climbing out of her throat as she let the tide of grief hit her.

“Hermione, are you hurt?” Severus’s voice was mingled with concern and confusion. His hands drifted over her as if he were checking her for wounds. 

Her throat contracted around the word. “No.” It was a strangled sob instead.

“What happened?” His mouth was near her ear now, his hand cradling her head to his shoulder. 

She was shaking with the sobs, her chest almost like it would explode. “I-”

She couldn’t say anything. Hermione’s chest was heaving, and the air wasn’t coming quickly enough. Gasping and wheezing, it felt like everything was closing in on her. 

Her heartbeat was loud and pounding, almost drowning out the sounds of her cries.

“Shush, breath. Tell me when you are ready.” Severus’s voice sounded as if it was far away from her. 

Hermione clung to Severus, her face pressing into his collar bone. Arms were wrapped around her, one hand smoothing over her back and the other in her hair, holding her head. 

She focused on those points of contact because it was the only anchor she had against the raging storm in her chest.

There was guilt. So much guilt.

_ How could Hermione be upset because Ginny and Harry were having another child? _

She should be happy; there was something wrong with her for feeling so hurt.

Grief, however, screamed against her because they should have known that she wouldn’t be happy. 

She would never get the chance to have that joy, never be able to hold a live child to her that was born of her. 

Hermione would never know motherhood.

_ They should have known... _

  
  
  


Hermoine ached, her whole body cried as she deflated against Severus. The crushing feeling of everything started to recede. The air was filling her lungs with each breath, a little more each time. 

As the rushing sound of her heartbeat dropped down, she noticed that he’d begun breathing evenly, as they had exercised before. 

Her head shifted from his shoulder and pressed against his chest, her body half off his lap. Severus’s heartbeat was not as rapid as hers. 

Her face rose and fell with his breathing, and she closed her puffy eyes, the sobbing nothing more now than running tears.

She didn’t know how long they sat like that, only that her hips and back started to ache from its discomfort. Still shaking, Hermione lifted from Severus and slid to her knees. 

Her arms crossed over his knees, and she buried her face, taking in a deep breath that hurt her overworked throat. 

Severus’s hands moved to brush through her hair, the gentle caresses soothing her.

“She’s pregnant.” Hermione breathed, so quietly that he might not have heard her.

His fingers stilled. “Uh--  _ Oh _ .” 

The realization in his voice did not require her to look up and see it. She didn’t dare, what if he pitied her too. 

She couldn’t bear it.

Severus’s voice belied tension as he spoke softly. “Did they not think this would upset you?”

“Ginny was going to wait, but Harry-” Hermione felt another pained sob escape her.

He growled above her, his hands no longer in her hair. “Potter is an  _ idiot _ .”

“I made him promise last time that I would know first- but.” She tried to explain to Severus that it wasn’t all Harry’s fault. But she couldn’t-- She was hurt. Merlin, was she brokenhearted.

“He is **still** an idiot.” Severus’s voice rose in timbre, and she looked up at him.

Severus’s jaw was clenched, his hand in fists on his lap. 

Black eyes were narrowed at the fireplace as if he expected Harry to show up just so he could hex him.

“Please don’t get angry.” Hermione found herself whispering, shrinking against his legs.

He looked at her, his eyes softer but the fury still there. 

It wasn’t meant for her. 

“Hermione, you have come to me besides yourself in grief because Potter wanted to make sure you were the first to know that he is spawning another  _ without consideration _ to how that would make you feel knowing that only months ago, you buried your son.  **TWICE** !” His voice thundered through the room, making even Crookshanks lift his head from Hermione's chair.

Hermoine buried her face into his knees, shaking her head.

She couldn't handle his righteous indignation. 

Or his fury-- or his desire to make things right by soundly berating Harry. Ginny was already doing it likely, from what she could tell.

Hermione couldn't stomach angry Severus right now.

What she needed was for him to make her feel like it was all okay again, like the ache wasn’t as vigorously gnawing at her heart.

“I need you.” The words fell out of her mouth like a pitiful whine.

Severus stiffened under her. 

His hands moved under her face, cupping her chin as he lifted her eyes to him. 

His voice was laden with something different than anger. “What do you need of me.”

Her eyes scanned his face as she sought some kind of answer. Craving peace and relief from her pain. Someplace where it didn’t hurt as much.

“Can we go to Alexander’s Garden?” Hermione almost felt like she was begging him. 

She was pulled up into his lap, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “Anytime you wish.”

“Now?” 

“Right now.”

Severus stood while still supporting her, his hand pushing on the chair's arm to get him leverage to lift both of them. 

Steadying her on her feet, Severus pressed a kiss to her forehead. He moved to the door, pulling on his leather shoes. 

Hermione watched him, her arms wrapped around her to keep both the emotions in and out.

He was back at her side, and she leaned into him as Severus tucked his elbow under her arm. 

The floo there and the trek to the transfiguration courtyard seemed like a blur to her. 

Most of her energy was spent keeping her emotions together.

Severus placed his long-fingered hand on the stone book, whispering. “Summo Amore.” 

The door opened for them, and Severus let her arm go as she walked in ahead of him.

Hermione sat before the headstone of her son. The tears rose again, and she shuddered against them. She heard Severus sit beside her, his arm sweeping behind her back.

Hermione steepled her fingers, pressing her face into the cradle of it and her thumb. 

Her eyes hurt from crying, yet more tears glided down the corners of her eyes and over her cheeks. 

They fell, hitting her knees as she took a deep breath.

“You are going to have a cousin. Another one.” She breathed out, the words full of sadness. 

Pain and guilt pressed on her like she was between two stones.

Hermione shook her head. “Your uncle Harry is so stupid sometimes. He’s like a little kid. He gets excited, and he doesn’t think--.”

Sucking in air, she wiped her face on her sleeve.

“He didn’t think that telling me your Aunt Ginny is pregnant would remind me that this time last year, you were growing under my heart.” It came as a strangled sob. 

Her hands moved over her stomach as she spoke, to where Alexander had been but was no longer.

She felt Severus’s fingers run up and down her back.

  
  
  


Sadness washed over her face as she looked at Severus. “I was three months pregnant in June. I’d just started showing- It was just a small bump.”

“I wish I could have seen it.” Severus murmured in a deep whisper to her.

Hermione shook her head, her hands still in place over her abdomen. “Not then, you didn’t.”

“No, not then, but now, I would have.” He explained, his hand still coaxing up and down her back.

Hermione’s lip trembled, her chin tucking to touch her chest. 

_ How different it would have been if it’d been Severus with her then. _

A new ache started in her heart. Raw and fresh, unlike the pain from before.

No matter how intimate they got, no matter if they were together for one or twenty years, she and Severus would never get that chance.

“Well, you never will. Another thing wrong with me.” Hermione bit back the sob.

Severus tucked his arms around her shoulder, pulling her into him. “Hermione this is not something wrong with you.”

“Ron took away any chance of me having another child. Healer Shade said so herself.” Her hands shook, and she curled into his shoulder. 

She would never forget that day at the divorce hearing. The words had cut open wounds that she didn’t think would ever heal.

“If I recall, Healer Shade, there was very _little_ chance. Very little does not equal **zero** , Hermione.” Severus whispered, his chin resting on her head.

Hermione snorted as if he’d said something morbidly funny. “Yes, well couple that with my intimacy issues, and there is still a lot wrong with me.”

She felt his chest shoulders rise and fall as he sighed at her. “We are working on that. Hermione, there is _ nothing _ wrong with you. Even if you never have another child, you can still be a mother.”

Lifting her head, she nodded, holding out her hands so that could count the options on her fingers. “I can adopt; if my eggs are still healthy, I could do a surrogate. I know all the logical answers. But you don’t understand.”

Black eyes fixed on her, and she felt him reaching out to touch her mind. 

Hermoine pressed back, only giving him the barest wisp of her emotions, trying to let him see the reason without feeling the hurt.

He nodded, his eyes understanding and soft, but not full of pity. “It is emotional. I don’t follow one hundred percent, but I get the feeling it is not just a mother you want, you want to experience pregnancy again.”

“You don’t know how it felt.”

“Nor will I, as I lack that equipment.” He gestured his hand along his long body with a teasing expression.

The idea of Severus pregnant made her stifle a chuckle. “If that was a poor attempt at a joke to cheer me up, it worked, a little.”

“Good, we are making progress.” He smirked, pulling her to him again.

  
  


They sat in silence for a while, the sun bouncing off the glass ceiling and creating beams and shafts of light that seemed to dance over the room. 

Hermione watched it slip over Alexander’s name, absorbing the peace of this place.

The hurt didn’t go away, but it seemed to retreat a bit in the wake of Severus's solitude and warmth. 

Her nose was sore from sniffling and her eyes and throat burned from crying. 

The calmer she felt, the more she considered the situation at hand.

Harry had been doing as she had made him promise before. 

And she knew that he would never outright willingly hurt her. 

Not like this. 

Alexander’s death had struck a blow to him as well because he felt like he should have been there to stop it. 

But she would offer no apology for her reaction. 

She wasn’t wrong either, it hurt, and Harry ought to have known it was going to hurt. 

She would expect an apology from him before anything would be right again. 

Hermione sighed. “Harry didn’t mean to be so daft.”

Severus squeezed her arm, her words seemingly taking him out of some thought he was having. “But you would think that he’d consider your feelings. Being your  _ friend _ .”

“I think he might have thought it would make me happy. Like here is another baby you can love and forget that you lost yours.” Hermione struggled with the thought. 

But she knew Harry, she knew how he thought and when he got wound up, his solutions were not always the greatest. 

After all, she’d seen him make his fair share of dumb mistakes when they were at war.

Severus snarled, like a rattlesnake hissing a warning. “For **_his_ ** sake, I hope that is  _ not  _ the truth.”

“Severus, please.” Hermione turned to him, beseeching him to not get angry with Harry. At least, not right now. 

He smirked as if something was deviously pleasing to him. “Do not worry. I presume Mrs. Potter has him by the bollocks right about now, giving him a what for and making him beg for mercy for his behavior.” Hermione made a face at the vision, knowing it was very likely true.

Severus smiled at her, leaning in to press a kiss to her brow. “It is enough for me,  _ right now _ . Because right now, as you said, you need me.”

Something about the way he said it made her heart twitch.

“I really do. I need you right here with me.” Hermione parroted, slipping her arm around his waist as he held her close.

His words were barely audible with how low he whispered in her ear. “I promise I will be at your side until you send me away.”

Another hard swallow. Emotions seemed to climb into the empty place that had been occupied earlier by grief and pain. 

Now, it was some abomination of worthlessness and love. Hermione loved Severus; his words drew that out of her very soul. 

But she did not feel worthy of him and his affections. 

Even though her mind knew it was a lie, her emotions were telling her that he’d soon realize that.

A shaky whisper left her lips. “How can you love me when I am so broken.” 

Severus shifted to look at her, sincerity written on his brow. “You are not broken, not any more than I am. And in that case, I am finding your pieces very much fit mine.”

Hermione didn’t know she needed the confirmation of his words until he said them. It helped to quiet the inner voice that hissed in her saying he would see her as she saw herself too. 

“If someone had told me that you” d utter such sweet things to me before this, I would have laughed in their face.”

“I was honest, but you may take my words as you like.”

The afternoon came and went. After a while, Hermione ached, wanted nothing more than a shower, and crawl into bed with Severus. 

When she told Severus as much, he was in agreement. He’d been rather pensive while they sat there, and she enjoyed his silent but responsive company.

Back at the house, he’d pulled some leftovers together while she showered. Dinner was also a quiet affair, and she wondered what he was thinking. But he’d told her that he was pondering an aspect of Artimis’s research. She left it at that, even though she had a suspicious feeling that he was lying to her. She had no reason to suspect it but a singular gut notion.

Hermione lay there in bed, waiting for him to finish his shower. She’d pulled Alexander’s blanket from her bag, tucking it to her chest. Away from the garden, her heart hurt. 

Not that it had stopped at any point, but the empty point under her heart was more poignant.

"I'll never be a mother, always an aunt." She mused quietly to herself in the dark.

  
  



	66. Devotion in not just words but action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He stepped into the bathroom, getting a chance to appreciate her work from the morning. 

She’d cleaned every bit of tile until it was like new. Every surface was free of years of build-up and dirt. 

Where his plain black towel often was alone, there was a second golden towel.  It had the letter ‘H’ embroidered on it in black thread. 

The counter was organized, cleaned, and now instead of only his toothbrush and toiletries, hers sat next to his.  It was a weird-looking sort of brush, but he imagined with Hermione's parents being dentists that she would have something like that.

The shower curtain had either been spelled or changed, because where a rather utilitarian plain one had been, there was now a black curtain, with golden curled lines reaching toward the bar. Somehow, Hermione had made his cramped and functional bathroom look elegant.

The mirror was spotless, and he looked at his reflection. He looked different from himself. Where dark bags had been the ordinary occupant of his under eyes for years, he looked rested. His face not as thin as it usually would be this time of year. Too often, he was used to seeing a tired man look back at him, and it surprised him that he did not.

It only added to the thoughts racing in his mind. Severus had been thinking quite a bit that evening already. The situation with Potter’s stupidity had spurred some of these thoughts into place. Others had been lingering in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to make themselves known. Much of it was about things he never imagined that he’d have the chance to ponder on. That he'd never live this long.

His shower was hasty; he had no desire to leave her to her darkest thoughts when he’d seen her bottom out so low today. He’d never heard that tone in her voice when she’d declared and begged at the same time that she needed him.

It wasn’t the kind of voice that Dumbledore would use when he needed him. Or when he was required to work for Tom Riddle. She didn’t use those kinds of tactics. 

No, Hermione had said she needed him like he was her reason for living, and it had stricken fear in him and a strong sense of belonging that he was coming to terms with. Among other things.

By the time he had dried off, his mind had been made on several points. Severus simply needed to gauge how she felt about it.

The door shutting to the bedroom announced his entrance to the room. He padded toward the bed, unsure if the exhaustion of the day had drawn her into a slumber. When she turned to look at him in the darkness, he knew that it had not., 

He cleared his throat as he clambered into the bed. “I’ve been thinking.”

“I noticed.” Hermione’s words came out in a nervous whisper.

He drew her toward him, her back pressed to his chest so that he could coil his arms around her. “Obviously.”

Nerves had him pausing, weighing his options, and determining if he was making a proper choice.

She slipped her hand to his, wrapping her fingers around his palm. “What have you been thinking about.”

Severus swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he breathed in the scent of her hair. It rallied him enough to express his concerns. “I’m not sure if saying it will upset you. I find myself in uncharted waters.”

“Well, honestly, I doubt you can top Harry’s blunder.” Her words were pained.

Severus had no desire to hurt her as her supposed best friend did. There was a very weighted chance that his words could, in fact, do that. If they were taken the wrong way, or she assumed some other meaning to them, this could turn into a rather nasty argument.

_Was it worth it..._

“And what if I can?” He managed out, pressing his forehead against the back of her head. Severus’s eyes closed as he navigated new and somewhat tricky emotions.

Her next words were a question. “Severus?”

He’d expected this, that once he opened the train of thought to her, that she’d not stop until it reached its destination. 

He wet his lips with his tongue as he felt as if his mouth was suddenly too dry. “It is not, I cannot explain the nature of the statement without revealing the statement.”

“So, then, just say it.” Hermione turned her head to look at him. 

His lips were by her cheek, and he could not resist pressing a kiss against it.

“Hermione, I am not sure that it is that simple. I have no desire to hurt you.” He intimated to her softly.

“Do you think it will hurt me?” There was caution in her voice, nervous tones wrapping around the word ‘hurt’.

Severus felt like his skin was crawling with ants as his nerves seemed to manifest into a physical sensation. He cleared his throat again as if the words were caught there.

“I am not sure, and I want to be certain.”

“Well, you won’t know until you tell me.” She sighed, turning and laying her face into her pillow.

“Very well.” Severus let out a deep, nervous breath. Once he began to tell her, there would be no taking it back. 

Weighing the risk versus the reward, he knew he would weather whatever storm it brought.

His control over his voice wavered, and the words came out far more hesitant than he thought they ought to. “With the damage to my body, from the war over the years, and the venom, I am not certain that I can sire children, even if you could bear them.”

“Oh.” He heard the note of disappointment in her voice.

His heart dropped into his gut. He closed his eyes, praying for some patience on her part and strength on his. “But that is the end result of what I was actually thinking about.”

‘Which was?” Hermione’s voice was soft, and he brought his hand up to caress her face. 

“That if you are one of Mrs. Shade’s subjects, which I have suspected you are, since she will not let me touch your potions, then your chances may not be as low as you think,” Severus explained. There was only ever one potion that Shade had absolutely forbidden him from tampering with because it was her magnum opus.

Hermione said nothing, but her grip in his hand grew tight, vice-like. He squeezed it back, hoping it offered her the comfort she sought.

Severus took it as a sign to continue speaking. His face was hot, flushed with emotion that he did not have words for. This was an infrequent occurrence for him. 

“Then I thought, if your chances are higher than you think, and if you desired it and I was capable, that I would happily father a child with you.” The words left him, and he knew that there was no going back on them now.

He felt as if he’d exposed a vital part of him to her, and she had either the right to strike or accept it.

Hermione turned in his arms, her nose touching his. She was crying, and her lips trembled as she wobbled out her response. “ _Please_ don’t get my hopes up like this.”

Severus cupped her cheek, running a thumb across it to smooth away her tears. “I do not wish to get your hopes up. I am simply letting you know, in case it was a worry or concern, that should we ever get to the intimacy level where we can indeed— do the horizontal tango, and by some miracle, you became with child, that I would be pleased with it, as long as you were.”

In the dark, the barest light from the curtain reflected in her eyes. Severus knew she could not reach into his mind to see that he was telling her the truth. So instead, he lowered as many as his shields as he could.

He saw her hand moved toward his face, and he prepared for the potential of a slap. Instead, her fingers caressed his jaw. Severus once again gazed into her eyes. He wanted to show her that he meant it, and all that it entailed.

Her words were a breath against his face. “Severus, that— that is something rather big.”

“I am aware.” He nodded. “It is, shall we say, a verbal testament to how deeply I care for you and to the fact that I do want you in my life in any and every way you are willing to be here. If we could not conceive a child, and you wanted to take one of those other options, I will be here. I do not know how to be a father, but I am certain that I could learn.”

The brick in his chest was growing more massive, and he craved her acceptance of this, but would not push it on her. As with everything, he put the Quaffle on her side of the pitch.

“I- don’t know what to say.” It sounded as if she were speaking around tears.

He kissed her brow, his hands shaking. “Then say nothing at all. I am not saying this to get anything from you. Reaction, action, or otherwise. Only, to let you know whatever the road you take to be the mother you wish to be, I will be here if you want me to be.”

There was a moment where they stared at each other, and Severus felt like the world had washed away— it was only the two of them, suspended in darkness.

“I love you.” Her words ran a ribbon of hope through his body, and he almost imagined that it pulled their hearts together.

His lips sought hers in a firm but chaste kiss. “And I love you.”

Hermione pressed her forehead to him, her hand sweeping around to push into the nape of his neck. “You’d really, if we could-- if we ever got there-- be happy with it?”

“It would take some getting used to, I am sure, but I have adapted to you and your hideous beast of a cat who yowls to be fed. I can make other adaptations. My devotion to you is that strong.” Severus smiled at her, drawing her so close to him that if they could, they would be of one body.

* * *

**Artimis,**

**I find I owe your husband a substantial amount of money. I once told him that there was no way I would ever consent to allow you any form of examination on my person unless it was a life or death situation. That I would bet him one hundred galleons on it.**

**At that point, I was sure of my bet and saw no way that I could lose.**

**My arrogance has made me a liar and a loser. Please tell Shamus that I have sent the transfer. I am, after all, a man of my word.**

**I find myself in a peculiar position that I need your expert advice on. I would very much like to discuss it in private. In an appointment. As one of your patients.**

**Please do not cackle so loud that the whole hospital can hear you.**

**I have evaluated the position that I am in. This will not reflect my review of your research, as I have no desire to be one of your subjects.**

**Your discretion in this matter is paramount,**

**Severus**

* * *

Severus buttoned the last button on his pant leg's bottom as he sat in his chair downstairs. 

He watched as Hermione paced in front of him, worriedly back and forth. Her hands were wringing, and he let out a sigh, catching her arm as she shifted past him.  Hermione looked at him, and he could read the tension in her face.

“Promise me you will not hurt him.” She asked, shaking her hands as she wrung her fingers around her pinky.

His lips twisted, and he thought over his words very carefully before delivering them to him. “I swear, I will not hurt Potter.”

Hermione reached for his hands.

Severus wrapped his hands in hers, pulling her closer to him.

“Severus, I am serious.” Hermione sighed.

He nodded, showing that he was too. “As am I. Potter and I will be having a _discussion_. I will not lay a hand on him unless it is in self-defense. Does that suit your wishes.”

“Yes, thank you.” Hermione’s face relaxed, her lips curling just enough to let him know that she believed him.

Severus stood up, letting her hands go and snapping the edge of his frock coat down so that it sat as it should. “I will be back before you know it. What room are you deconstructing today.”

“I was thinking about the bedroom. It needs dusting in the corners, badly.” Hermione smiled at him, a mischievous look on her face.

He rolled his eyes, embracing her. “You make me feel as if I have lived my whole life as a slob.”

“No, you were simply too busy to care about the cobwebs.” Hermione chuckled against him, and he could smell the coffee on her breath.

He cupped the back of her neck gently, pulling her into a firm kiss. She kissed him back, pressing on to her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Hermione kept that position, gazing into his eyes. Those brown orbs were so full of love that he could not deny it, even if he had wanted to. 

Which he did not.

“I love you. Be safe.” Hermione whispered, pecking him again.

Severus let her go, at least when she sank to her feet. “I will, don’t fret, Potter will live to see the next sunrise. I love you too.”

The floo powder filled his fingers, and he stepped into the fire. “Ministry of Magic, DMLE Floor.”

Typically, only Aurors were allowed to have direct transportation through the floo network to this floor. It was a luxury that Severus had asked for since he was doing Potter a favor. A favor that might end today if the man did not correctly grasp the situation at hand.

“Good Morning Severus.” A proud voice came from behind him.

Severus did not need to turn to know who addressed him.

“Hello Lucius.”

Rather than his customary finery, Lucius had taken to wearing a regal set of dueling robes. Severus had told him that his flashiness did him no favors, but he thought it kept the younger Aurors suitably sure that his offers for more than they could handle were genuine.

“Are you ready to see who can actually pay attention today.”

Severus felt the calm that he had with Hermione receding quickly. He gave Lucius a withering look. “We both know that they have the attention span of a concussed newt.”

Lucius looked over him appraisingly. 

Severus looked at the doors to the entrance of the department, pointedly ignoring his assessment.

“You seem tense. A fight with the Missus.” Lucius questioned, pressing his elbow into his as if there was some manner of a joke to it.

Severus took a deep breath through his nose, steeling himself with all the strong words he wanted to say to Harry Potter. “Hermione and I are fine.”

“Now, I know you are upset; you did not even correct me. A galleon for your thoughts.” The blonde man asked him, stepping before him,

Severus looked him over and nodded his head. Severus was not as furious as he had been last night, but that did not mean there was not a calm temper sitting there “I suppose I owe you an explanation of sorts, since it may result in you having to take over the education of these imbeciles.”

“I do not like the sound of that.” Lucius rested his hands on his cane. 

Severus knew that meant he was waiting for more information.

He cleared his throat, his hands slipping behind his back as he explained to the elder Malfoy the nature of the situation. “To sum up the events that have lead up to here, Mr. Potter and his wife are expecting a third child.”

“Hardly a reason to be so cross, Severus.” Lucius tilted his head, confusion evident on his face.

Severus glowered at Lucius for his assumption. “I am not finished. As I said, they are expecting, and Potter, in his infinite wisdom, decided that my-- Hermione was the first to know and exploded into our home and got her worried for Mrs. Potter. They left, and I remained, having no desire to deal with Potter in the state he was in.” Severus let out a sigh, regretting that he had not gone with her. Perhaps, if he’d been there, then it would not have as much of an effect on her.

“And I suppose that did not go well?” A dawning of realization went over Lucius Malfoy’s face as Severus shook his head.

“It did not. Potter was so jubilant that he completely disregarded her feelings on the matter and did not consider that she’d lost her son and had to exhume and bury him within the last four months. Needless to say, instead of enjoying our afternoon together, we spent a great deal of it with her very upset.” 

_ Very upset was putting it lightly… Devastated is more like it... _ Severus thought to himself. 

Hermione had never used that tone of voice with him before as if she were breaking apart at the very seams of her soul. It had stirred something in him that he still didn’t have a word for. Severus’s eyes wandered for a moment as he thought about the resulting conversation for Potter’s idiocy. 

He supposed that was the only positive note of the situation.

Lucius lowered his head, eyes to either side of them before speaking as if he were looking for eavesdroppers. “So, how do you plan on handling this?”

Severus’s jaw clenched. “Extracting an apology for Hermione and reminding him that if he ever decides to do something this stupid in the future, he will not have any more children, because I will put his testicles in a jar in my laboratory as an example of stupidity.”

“Very well. I shall be dutifully distracting while you have this conversation.” Lucius offered.

Severus nodded, appreciating that Lucius understood that this was not something that he needed to offer any assistance in. It was not his wife that had been affected, it was Hermione.

Without a word to his companion, he glided around him to the doors of the office. Once inside, they were given their portkey to the training pitch. Severus and Lucius were trusted to teach, but not to know the location of where it was they were teaching. 

Severus far preferred apparition to port-key travel. There was no dignified way to land from a port-key. One had to hope they kept their footing and try to not tumble over from the whirling pressures around them. Lucius also seemed to feel the same way as they both wobbled before straightening up.

A tall, athletic man greeted them. Since his boyhood years at Hogwarts, Dean Thomas had grown taller, standing nearly half a head taller than Severus. His rich brown eyes were keen, looking over each man with the look of someone who’d been at war. Which was right, because, in his seventh year, he’d been on the run from Snatchers, at least that is what Severus had heard. Scars from those years were still there on his arms, making dark brown lines against his sepia skin tone. He tried to not think about that time as the young man stepped toward them.

Auror Thomas bowed his head, differentially them. “Mr. Snape. Mr. Malfoy.”

“Mr. Thomas. Has everyone arrived.” Severus asked, nodding in return. His eyes scanned the group of Aurors who were leaning against the pitch walls. The age group was so varied that it was hard to teach one alone. Many of them were twice his age and the others half his age. Add in that half thought he was a cold-blooded killer and the other half tolerated him, and it was a wonder no one had gotten seriously hurt yet.

_Perhaps it was because this was a Minister Mandate that they learn. No one really wanted to piss off Kingsley._

He did not see a sign of the unkempt black hair that Potter refused to do anything with among the group.

“Harry’s not here yet, but everyone else is.” Dean confirmed his suspicions with his words.

Severus turned to his pale friend. “Very well. Lucius?”

Lucius smiled, striding up to the Aurors waiting on them. 

“Yes, I think we should start today by demonstrating what we already know. Up, now.” Lucius banged his cane on the ground as he began to order them around.

While many thought that Lucius was relatively soft in the spine area, they’d never seen him in a position of power. The man had raised Draco, after all, who had reflexes and responses instilled in him. Lucius could command respect if he thought he could get away with it and felt sure of himself.

The other Aurors began to shuffle toward the center of the pitch. However, Dean Thomas still stood there, looking at Severus.

Severus took in a steady breath maintaining eye contact. Thomas had not been one of the many who had tried to posture to him or make him out to be a demon, but he had stood by and watched it occur. 

“Mr. Thomas, you should join your peers.” Severus said firmly. While he had no intention of antagonizing a fight, he would not let any of these people, especially former students, think they could intimidate him.

Auror Thomas stepped to him, looking down at him. “I have to say something to you, Professor.”

“I am teaching you, but I am no longer your Professor.” Severus barely tilted his head up, eyebrow raised in such a manner as to show that he was not impressed.

Dean Thomas nodded then, eyes looking around. Severus assumed it was to ensure that no one was watching them.

The younger man began to speak. “Right. Snape, I heard you’ve shacked up with Hermione. And I’ve heard you’ve been really good to her. Not sure what she sees in you, but if Neville can talk about you the way he has, then well, you are alright in my book. I’ll be cracking down on some of that nonsense I’ve been seeing.”

Severus’s head shifted, tilting to the side as he examined the man. It was not what he expected. However, he did not want anyone to think that he needed some form of a shield from the other Aurors.

“Mr. Thomas, while I appreciate your sentiment, I do not need to be protected as if I cannot handle everything directed my way.” 

“I understand that, Sir. To be honest, I’m not doing it for you. One of these blokes hurt you, you don’t get to go home to Hermione. After what I’ve heard- well, she doesn’t deserve that. If not for her during the war, well, I’d be dead.” The younger man had a look in his eyes that beheld some manner of adolescence as he ran a hand through thick curly hair.

Severus understood. Presented in this manner, he would not refuse the young man. “Very well, Mr. Thomas, do as you will. However, I want to address one more thing.”

Severus moved closer into Thomas’s space, eyes narrowing.

A flash of fear crossed the man’s eyes. “Sir?”

Severus held the look for a moment, before relaxing back to speak. “It is inappropriate to say that a lady has shacked up with someone. She lives with me. Please use more respectful language when referring to my lady.” 

“Um, yes, sir.” Dean nodded.

Severus could see that either from the sun or the fear, that he’d begun sweating.

_Good, no need for all of that class to think they would get chummy with him because he was with Hermione…_ Severus mused to himself.

He jerked his head toward the pitch. “I’d go before Lucius makes an example out of you.”

“Yes, sir.” The Auror said, turning away from him and hastily jogging to the rest of the class.

Someone snorted behind him. “Impressive. Dean doesn’t scare that easy anymore.” 

Severus turned on the speaker, seeing Harry Potter leaning against the wall behind him. 

A fire sparked in his gut, and he growled at the idiot. “Mr. Potter, you know how much I dislike it when you attempt to listen in on conversations that are not meant for you.”

“I was simply waiting until I could speak with you.” Potter shrugged, leaning away from the wall.

His devil-may-care attitude reminded him of both the boy and his father. He drew in a breath through his nose, carefully cultivating the anger and rage into razor-edged focus. “I see. And what precisely did you wish to speak to me about.”

“How is Hermione.” The man asked, and his expression was concerned.

Severus, however, did not think it was concerned enough. Not for what has transpired.

Severus clasped his hands in front of him, stepping toward him. “Mr. Potter, how do you think she is?”

“I don’t know, which is why I am asking you.” Harry said, not taking a step back. 

Severus got close enough to speak quietly, reflecting the anger that he felt on Hermione’s behalf. “Give me one reason why I should not hex you where you stand for what you did to her yesterday?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Potter pleaded his case with an even tone of voice, his arms now crossed.

“The road to hell is _paved_ with good intentions; I would have thought you learned that lesson a long time ago.” Severus hissed through barely clenched teeth.

Potter sighed as if he was tired and rubbed his head. “Severus, honestly, is she alright?”

Severus drew up, crossing his arms to look down at him. “No. She is not. You wounded her badly with your insufferable arrogance and inability to think beyond yourself.”

“You sound like my wife.” Harry Potter offered with slumped shoulders.

“Mrs. Potter has always had a good head on her shoulders. What she sees in you, I cannot understand.” Severus snapped.

Potter huffed, shaking his head to the side. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

A quiet fell over them, and Severus counted backward from 10. As much as he wanted to be furious, as much as he wanted to eviscerate Potter with words and wand, it would serve neither of them or Hermione.

Severus desired answers. “Mr. Potter, why did you choose to break her heart yesterday?”

The younger man seemed to deflate, his shoulders drooping, and he looked at the ground. “I didn’t- I thought- Last time Ron did not tell her at all, she was the last. She was so devastated that she threatened to neuter me if anyone else found out before her this time. And well, I hoped it might make her feel better. You know, another baby, because she lost-”

Severus interrupted him forcefully. “I would stop right there, Potter, before you say something you cannot take back and force me to break my promise to Hermione.”

“I- was?” Potter looked confused, and Severus shook his head at him to silence him.

The moment of clarity he’d been experiencing a moment ago was fading in the wake of the idiocy from Harry Potter. Surely he wasn't that daft to Hermione's predicament to honestly think that.

“I am going to make myself very clear. You will not ever say to Hermione that you thought your child would be a suitable emotional replacement for her son.  _ EVER _ . If I even think that you have Potter, you will not have to worry about any more children, because I will personally remove your testicles and put them in a jar on display for your blatant stupidity.” Severus meant every word of, letting that vibrate through the baritone of his voice.

Harry Potter paled slightly, yet did not show any other outward signs of distress. However, it did not give Severus as much satisfaction as it reminded him that he was very much acting like the man he was not trying to be. He took a step back, leaning on his heel.

“OI.” One of the Auror’s behind Severus shouted

Harry put his hand up, shaking his head. “Mind your own, Lashey. Between him and me.”

Severus took that interruption to center his thoughts so that he could get this conversation over and done with.

“Mr. Potter, here is what you are going to do. You are going to write, yes, write, Hermione, an apology. You are going to mean it. You will not simper around the fact that you were careless with the emotions of someone you supposedly care so deeply for. Then, you will let your wife read it before you send it. If she thinks you should fix something, you might want to do so. Because until I know you have sent her that letter, you will no longer be welcome in our home. Do I make myself clear?”

Potter nodded once sharply. “Crystal.”

“Potter, you had better include in that letter your gratitude for having someone like her in your life. Because even when she was sobbing into my chest, she defended you to me. Now, go join the others while I get the second part of the lesson prepared.” Severus said, sighing as he tried to take rein on his emotions.

“Okay Severus.”

Severus held his hand up, shaking it at the man-who-won. “We are not on a first-name basis right now, Potter, not until you make this right with her.”

“Okay, Snape.”

Potter joined the others, and Severus took this time to drive the anger into a neat compartment for use later or to be dealt with. He needed to focus on the task; else, one of these idiots could hurt themselves.

* * *

**Severus,**

**I have received your letter.**

**Of course, I will treat you with the same respect and privacy I offer all my patients. We will discuss your concerns in private. You know I am, above all else, a professional, so do not worry about being treated differently.**

**My husband nearly died of asphyxiation, as he had entirely forgotten about your bet.**

**I shall see you later this week; you have an appointment set up with me during the week's slower time.**

**No, I would not ask you to be a subject; you would skew my data simply because you know the experiment's nature.**

**Healer Artimis T. Shade**

**Supervisor**

**St. Mungos**

* * *

“Are you certain that you want me to come to dinner to meet your childhood best friend.” Severus was leaning against the kitchen counter, a cup of tea in his hand.

Hermione was positively jumping with excitement. “Yes, I do. She wants to meet you, and her parents were like second parents when I was young. We did everything together.”

“So, I am not only meeting your muggle childhood best friend, but all so her muggle parents, who you view as surrogate parents, or at least did.” Severus asked her with a raised eyebrow.

He wasn’t strictly opposed to the idea, but there was a chance that this muggle would take umbridge with the age difference. Severus did not want to create a rift between her and this friend she was reconnecting with.

Obvious Hermione did not see it that way, as she lifted up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, exactly.”

Setting his teacup near the kettle, he sighed. He kissed Hermione's temple, slipping around her. “Very well, I shall go get dressed.”

“Don’t dress up, casual, this isn’t that kind of dinner.” Hermione called after him as he headed toward the door.

Severus smirked at her before walking out of the room. “I shall _endeavor_ to meet your rigorous standards.”


	67. Dinner with the Sorgfalt's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

Since that night, Alexander was heavy on Hermione’s mind. She’d not really connected that a full year prior she’d been pregnant, and Ron had been pretending that everything was going to be alright. It twisted her gut when Hermione thought about it. The cheerful mood she’d had for much of the going on three weeks she’d been at Spinner’s End with Severus was dampened. The fact that it had been dreary and rainy outside for the past few days didn’t help either. She couldn’t even enjoy the blooms that were coming from the garden beds.

She often wrote about her mood, especially how she noticed that it was primarily the worst when Severus was gone. When he was with her, it was hard to be morose. Something about him made her feel warm and happy. Safe. The way she described it in her journal was that he felt like home to her. Hermione had no other real words for the sensation. Pouring over books offered her no answers that she didn’t already know. 

Hermione knew that she felt safe with Severus and that he made her feel loved. If there had been doubts before, they were gone that night as well. His quiet words, whispered in the darkness, had taken residence in her heart. Hermione knew about Severus’s memories, the flashbacks to an angry father yelling at his mother. While she had never asked about the nature of their relationship, Hermione could surmise that it hadn’t been good. So him saying what he did about being willing to be in her life if she wanted to be a mother meant so much.

It hadn’t been a fear she had known she had, that he would be put off by her longing children in her future, but he’d put it to rest before it rose. If she were honest, she’d only just begun thinking about a future and her goals. Hermione hadn’t even gotten to the part in her journal from Dr. Shade about her relationship goals. But she knew now that Severus was serious about wanting her in his life.

_How much had it changed in so short a time?_

It was hard to think about him as the arrogant asshole Severus had been when she’d arrived at the school. It felt like it was a long time ago, and not only eight months. 

Hermione shook her head as she waited for Severus to come down to join her for dinner at the Sorgfalt’s. It was actually lunch, but semantics had utterly flown out the window once she’d been able to convince Severus to go with her. 

  
  
  


Nerves ran through her, and she worried that they wouldn’t like him. Or worse, they wouldn’t like who she had become. The last time she’d seen the family all together was just before the start of what would have been her 7th year. Days before she sent her parents to Australia and saw them alive for the last time. Days before her world finished tipping upside down.

It’d been an early birthday celebration for her 18th, she’d told them that she had to leave at the end of July, extra studies at her boarding school. Her parents had made a big fuss over it, even if she didn’t want them too. She practically begged them not. But there was nothing to be done, their little girl was turning 18, and they wanted to celebrate it with her. They’d sang and danced in the living room, played cards, and she’d taken her first ‘legal’ drink of alcohol with them, a rite of passage.

She wished she’d been able to enjoy it more at the time, but her mind was clouded with what was to come and what she had to do. All she had left now were wistful memories of that day.

  
  
  


Her face must have shown her discomfort because, as Severus walked down the stairs, he looked at her with worry. Hermione shook away the thoughts, putting those emotions back behind the shields that Severus taught her to master.

“You sure you want me to go?”

She looked him over, smiling. “Of course.”

Severus had put on a black button-up shirt and a pair of blue jeans. This was apparently his idea of muggle casual. Hermione had never seen him in denim before, and she secretly wished she would more often. His hair had been brushed back, and he gathered it at his nape with a hair tie. He looked nothing like the Severus Snape that had haunted the dungeons of Hogwarts all her life. 

That rose desire in her gut, which distracted her more so from her previous woes. Severus looked so attractive that nearly all thought ceased for Hermione as she took him in. The only idea that survived the wipe was how she wanted to unbutton his shirt with her teeth. It would have been shocking to her if Hermione was cognitively aware of anything at the moment. She didn’t usually have those thoughts, at least, not so strongly.

“It is rude to stare with one’s jaw on the ground.” Severus broke her thoughts, slipping into the library with a smug expression on his face.

Hermione’s jaw snapped up, and she blushed. “I was admiring the view.”

“Is that so?” His voice hummed over her as he closed into her space. 

His aftershave lingered on his skin, and she enjoyed the woodsy smell as she pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Does the view meet your expectations?” Severus questioned, his brow raised.

Hermione felt her face flush, and she smirked. “Yes. I would give it an _O_.”

“Well, then I shall take that grade and hold my peace about how you are overgenerous in your grading. Before we begin this journey, care to tell me what had the scowl on your face before I came down?” His words were probing, and she could sense that he was trying to make sure that everything was, in fact, alright amid the teasing parley.

A small grimace wrinkled her nose. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the whole family together, and it won’t be like old times. There will be two empty places at that table.”

Realization traced around his lips. “Your parents?”

“Yeah.” She looked at her feet for a moment, not wanted to work herself up more about it. If she spent too much time thinking about what she didn’t have, Hermione would miss out on what she had. Dr. Shade had told her that dwelling in the past would rob her of the gift of the present.

Severus tipped her chin up with a finger, black eyes sweeping over her face. “If you wish to talk about them this evening, after your visit, we can.”

Hermione thought it over, taking into account the mindfulness she had been practicing. He’d provided a perfect way for her to navigate the emotions at a later time. Nodding, mostly to herself, she let the nerves slide away from her, smiling. 

“We might need to talk later. Now, get your shoes on so we can go.” Hermione told him, feeling confident in herself for a moment, her eyes shifting to where his shoes were by the door in.

“Yes Ma’am.” He chuckled. “A little bossy today.”

She didn’t think she was bossy, but maybe she had been. “I’m sorry. Does that bother you?”

Severus bent down to get his shoes before taking a seat in his chair. His lips told a story of humor as they twisted into a smirk. “Hermione, it is perfectly acceptable for you to take certain liberties in bossing me around. I will let you know if I do not appreciate it; I like it in this case. Our drive for timeliness is aligned.”

“You sure.” The confidence wavered a bit.

He cleared his throat, pulling the shoes on to his socked feet. “Don’t fret, I am not lying to you. It was- nice to see the assertive side of you again, if only for a second.”

Hermione didn’t know what to think about that, and so she waited quietly as he tied the laces on the leather shoes. Soon he was at her side, and they were on their way to Lucy’s house.

* * *

They’d traveled by floo first, before apparating near the church in Hampstead Gardens. Hermione took in a deep breath, marveling at how it looked such much the same as it had when she was a girl. Neat hedges separating period style houses. In the full of summer, front gardens were in bloom, and trees offered cool shade. This place sang to her, in her bones.

She’s not been here since what she’d wiped all memory of her from her parents. Since she obliviated herself from existence.

The contrast of that grey day to this bright, cheerful summery one was like day and night. Severus moved to step forward, but she was frozen, held in both fear and awe.

“What is it?” He stooped his head toward her, his eyes flickering around. 

Hermione knew he was looking for danger, but she knew he couldn’t see these ghosts. Her palms were sweaty, and she wiped them on her jeans, swallowing back the tension. 

“I haven’t been here since-” Did she dare tell him now, what had happened on this bright, happy street over nine years ago. “-before we went on the run.”

Something in his black eyes seemed to register her hesitation. “We can cancel if you want to.”

Shaking her head, she took in a deep breath. “I can’t. I want to see them. I wasn’t as prepared for being here as I thought.”

“Take your time. Tardiness is acceptable in these instances.” Severus’s deep voice draped over her as he slipped his arm around her waist. 

It grounded her. Severus's presence, his hand on her hip, holding her to his side helped her to focus on the here and now. Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes and taking a focusing breath.

“If you’ve need, I brought some panic puffs.” He said quietly, his arm pulling her tighter to his side.

They stood there for a few minutes, under the shade of a tree that offered seclusion and peace. Hermione drew it into her, ratifying her emotions around it to urge her onward.

Hermione looked at him with a smile, knowing full well that he’d prepared when she had not. “If I need them, I will let you know. I think I am ready.”

His hand slipped from around her waist, and she felt his long fingers tuck around her hand, entwining with hers. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

She started strolling, trying to wrap false confidence around her like a shawl as she led him toward the place she’d grown up. Turning toward the cul-de-sac, Hermione’s steps slowed increasingly as she drew close to the destination. 

The Sorgfalt’s had been her neighbors her whole life. Lucille was only a few months older than Hermione, and they had been basically raised crib by crib since then. It wasn’t until she got her letter that the bond had strained. But every summer when she returned, they picked right back up as if they’d never been separated. 

Hermione wondered if, after nine years, it would be the same.

As they walked past the drive to Hermione’s childhood home, she gave Severus’s hand a soft tug. He looked down at her with a question on his face. 

“That was our house. I was born there, Mum had a midwife and everything.” Her voice was strained, choking on the emotions. Hermione had hoped that she would be able to show Severus around her hometown as he had shown her, but she’d not prepared for how intensely she would feel here.

Severus looked up at the house, appraising it and then back to her. A soft, concerned smile on his lips. “It is a beautiful house. No wonder you decorate the way you do.”

It made her chuckle, and he squeezed her hand three times as if to say that it was his intention.

Slipping up the next drive, the smile lingered. The front garden was close to how Hermoine remembered it. Bright flowers shot up from manicured planters. The closer she got to the door, the more she felt familiar with the place, less like a stranger.

  
  
  


Before she could even knock on the door, it was thrown open, and Lucille was there, wrapping her arms around her in a vast embrace. Hermione let go of Severus’s hand and squeezed the woman.

“I was so afraid you weren’t coming. Mum made cornish pasties, and I’ve been dying from how good the house smelt.” Lucy said excitedly into her hair.

Hermione squeezed her childhood friend back with as much gusto.“It’s so good to see you. I can smell them from here. Sorry about being late, you know how traffic can be.”

They rocked back and forth for a few minutes in the hug. So much of the tension left that Hermione almost wondered why she was nervous at all.

Lucy let her go and looked over her shoulder with a cheeky grin. “And are you gonna introduce us?”

Hermione turned to Severus, taking a step back to wrap her arm around his arm. “This is Severus Snape, my suitor, if you will. Severus, this is Lucille Sorgfalt, the closest thing I have ever had to a sister growing up.”

Severus looked at Hermione and then extended his hand to her friend. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“A suitor, Mimi? Oh! Well then, it is very nice to meet you, Sevrus” Lucille tripped over his name.

Hermione cleared her throat and corrected her with a smile. “It's _Severus_ , Lucy.”

Lucy’s eyebrows rose up in mortification at having said his name wrong. “Sorry, forgive me, Severus.”

Hermione watched as Severus offered a slight smile, inclining his head. “No offense taken.”

Hermione had never seen Severus interact with muggles that he didn’t know before. Part of her had feared he’d become the surly potions master and be threatening. However, the other side of her knew that Severus had it in him to be civil to people. She’d seen it herself. He had friends, of course, he knew how to be polite.

Lucy peeked into the house, her brunette hair in a braid. She was as casual as Hermione, a tee-shirt and jeans. If you put them together, they had the same shape face, that you’d think they were fraternal twins. They’d been mistaken as that a lot when they were younger.

A female voice called from in the house. “Is she here?”

Lucy gave Hermione a look that meant for Hermione to be prepared. “Here comes Mum, get ready, been bawling about how much she has worried about you since your letter.”

Maryanne Sorgfalt looked like an average housewife. She had long brown and grey curly hair that she’d tucked up into a bun on top of her head and blue-green eyes that always seemed to be smiling with some hidden secret. She rushed out of the house, reaching her hands out for Hermione and beaming like she’d won a lottery.

“Oh, my beautiful girl, let me look at you.” Hermione was squeezed into a hug before being let go and looked over. Hermione gave a soft shrug before Maryanne turned and yelled into the house. “Cameron, come downstairs, Hermione is here!”

Before Maryanne could ask, Hermione took a sidestep, introducing her to Severus. “Maryanne. This is Severus.”

Lucy piped up with a devious little smirk. “He’s her _suitor_ , mum.”

Mrs. Sorgfalt tilted her head to the side, appraising Severus before reaching out to shake his hand. “ _Oh!_ It is nice to meet you, Severus.”

Severus shook her head and gave her a polite nod. “A pleasure. Thank you for the invitation to dinner.”

Lucy gave Hermione a look and waggled her eyebrows at her. Hermione blushed and tried to conceal it from everyone else. It felt like old times, which she thought should have been hard to come to terms with, but instead, it was effortless. She and Lucy had gone back to speaking with facial expressions and it had only been a few moments.

While Hermione and Lucy continued to converse in a series of eyebrow shifts and smirks, they were all ushered into the house. “Well, come in, come in, Cam is upstairs, he’ll be down in a minute.”

  
  


Once inside the lounge, Maryanne caught her attention again. “I just, I can not get over how much you’ve grown up. I remember my little Mimi when you were just born and held you in my arms, and you were so small. It feels like yesterday, and here you are a grown woman.”

Hermione couldn’t help the smile on her face; she felt so pleased that Maryanne was so openly proud of her. She nodded her head, her hand reaching instinctively for Severus’s. His hand slipped right into hers, and she gave him a smile.

His face seemed amused by the whole going on.

“Don’t you look darling together.”

Hermione blushed, looking away from Severus. Dear Merlin, she felt like a schoolgirl who was bringing a boyfriend home to meet her parents.

“Mum, you are embarrassing her.” Lucille whinged, coming around to put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

It took Hermione a minute to stop blushing, but she laughed. “No, it’s perfectly fine. I’ve missed you too.”

Lucy’s mother put her hands on her hips and wagged a finger at her. “Not as much as you miss these two, you go to see them, but you leave me waiting almost 5 months, young lady.”

Footsteps were coming down the stairs.

Doc, looking spiffy in a sweater vest and slacks, came into the room with a bright beaming smile.

“Mimi, my girl, how have-” He stopped, his eyes falling on Severus and giving him a once over, his smile never dropping. “-oh hello.”

Maryanne moved to her husband, making introductions before Hermione could move to do so. “Cameron, this is Severus, he is Hermione’s suitor.”

Hermione let go of Severus’s hand, hopefully watching the interaction. They both seemed to appraise each other with their eyes with polite smiles.

It was Doc who extended his hand first. “I see. Cameron Sorgfalt, Hermione calls me Doc, but you can call me Cam.”

“Severus Snape. I prefer to be called Severus, I have no other nicknames.” Severus offered, shaking his hand. It was a firm shake, and Hermione still felt nervous.

Doc let out one of his booming laughs. “Oh, not like our Mimi does.”

Severus pursed his lips as if he would say something sarcastic, looking at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. “I have never, in _all_ the time I have known her, heard her called Mimi.”

Hermione let out a small laugh, shrugging with her hands out as she explained.“It’s from when we were younger. Lucy couldn’t say my name, and well, it’s a family name, I guess.”

Though she desperately hoped that he wouldn’t start doing it. It was okay from this family, but it reminded her of being little, and she didn’t want to feel small with him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t start calling you it, _Hermione_.” He said her name meaningfully as if he had read the thoughts racing past. Hermione closed her eyes and realized she wasn’t shielding well at all and that he likely had read them.

She lifted up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Hermione noticed that Severus’s cheek flushed the slightest bit red. It was the first sign that he was showing any nerves at this meeting.

  
  


Doc gestured to the couch, putting his hand on the middle of Severus’s back. “Come on, let us have a seat while mum gets the rest of dinner underway. Do you need help, love?”

Hermione and Lucille shared a look. It was clear between then both what was going on. Mum and Da were playing divide and conquer, and they were just about to be on Mum’s side of the board. Lucille gave Hermione a wink just as Maryanne spoke. “Yes, girls, come help me get these out of the oven, will you.”

Giving Lucille a knowing incline of her head toward the kitchen, Hermione then gave Severus a smile.

She felt him brush over her mind, like a soft caress.

 _I will be fine, go spend time with your friend…_ Severus’s voice rang through her.

Hermione nodded and turned to the kitchen, feeling elated. Something about this whole thing had brought her mood up considerably. “You don’t really need our help, do you?”

Maryanne smirked, gathering dishes together for the meal. “No, but you know that Da did the posturing thing, he’ll want a moment to chat. Size him up a bit.”

“I think that Doc will not find Severus wanting.” She was positively grinning as she tapped her fingers on the counter.

Lucy’s mum sighed, handing Hermione a set of napkins to take to the table. “But he has to do it, your father would have wanted him to make sure any man you brought home was good enough.”

“Mum.” Lucille, seemingly on Hermione’s side, complained loudly.

“Look, you give me that lip, and you won’t have any pasties, adult or not,” Maryanne warned her daughter as if Lucille was already on her last limb.

Lucy took a step into the kitchen, putting glasses on the table. “So, Hermione, what had been going on.”

Hermione rose her eyebrow, flicking her head toward her mum in a question as to what that was about. 

Lucille shook her head, looking down with a sort of sad smile.

Hermione would have to ask about that later. “Well, I left my job at the ministry, I was working in Environmental Protection. I started teaching last year at the private school I attended when I was a girl.”

“Oh, teaching, you were always so bright, I bet it suits you.” Maryanne made a pleased singsong sound as she spoke.

“It does. I teach sociology and civics, but I will be hopefully trying my hand at some advanced mathematics.” It was so easy for her to transfer course titles to something comparable to the muggle world.

  
  


Hermione walked back into the kitchen, taking the next thing handed to her into the dining room. This time it was a warm crock of vegetable soup. It smelt amazing and reminded Hermione that she’d not eaten this morning in her worry. She’d managed a cup of coffee and some toast, but that was all she had.

“And your suitor, what does he do,” Lucy asked, obviously trying to keep the conversation off of her.

Hermione realized the game, answering enthusiastically. “Severus teaches advanced chemistry and applied chemistry. He’s brilliant.”

“Oh, so you met through work.” Maryanne made an approving click of her tongue.

She froze for a moment. It had never occurred to her that she would have to tell them how she’d met Severus. It was so prevalent in her everyday life that it had not even crossed her mind in the wizarding world. What would she say, what would they think if they knew he was her teacher before.

Hermione took in a deep breath, Lucy touching her arm.

She nodded that she was okay. 

“Um, no. You see, Severus was once my professor. But, before you think anything _untoward_ happened when I was young, **it didn’t** , I swear, he’s not like that.” Hermione adamantly defended Severus’s character.

Mrs. Sorgfalt wiped her hands on a towel after she rinsed off a serving spoon. “So he’s a bit older.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek before telling the truth. “About 19 years or so.”

“Hermione, that is a big age gap.” Lucy gasped beside her, and Hermione shrunk from the judgment.

It was Maryanne who walked in and shook her hand at her. “Oh, that is not so bad. Your da is 16 years older than I am.”

“So, you don’t think its a problem,” Hermione said hesitantly. The prospect of rejection suddenly weighed on her.

Maryanne shook her head at her like she was a silly little girl. “I’d be a hypocrite if I did.”

  
  
  


She threw her arms around her, pulling her into a massive hug. Hermione hadn’t known she craved her approval until she got it, and now it was threatening to make her spill tear all over the place. 

Hermione buried her face into her surrogate mother’s shoulder. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

“And we’ve missed you, love. When your parents took off and disappeared, with all that madness happening that year, we thought something happened to you three.” Maryanne was squeezing her just as intensely as if she was never going to let go.

A few tears escaped Hermione as she was so strongly embraced. It wasn’t sad tears, it was tears of relief and catharsis. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I had a lot of sorting of myself to do.”

“Makes sense, love, just don’t stay so long from home next time,” Maryanne whispered, running her hand down Hermione’s back. 

“I won’t.” Hermione made a promise. It would not be nearly a decade before she came back this time. She would make sure of it.

The embrace broke, and Maryanne went and found her a tissue for her eyes.“I think we ought to go save your young man from Cameron before he scares him off.”

“If Doc can scare Severus away, I will be surprised.” Hermione laughed, wiping her eyes, but following to the sitting room.

  
  


* * *

The meal had been better than she could have imagined. Whatever had gone on between Doc and Severus had put them on excellent terms. While they weren’t precisely laughing like chums, they were definitely having a good time. Many stories about her growing up came to the table, and both Hermione and Lucy were suitably abashed. 

It was one of the flaws of growing up with the same people knowing you your whole childhood. They also knew the embarrassing stories. Severus had chuckled, but Hermione was very aware of the fact that he was always watching her, gauging her reaction. She almost thought that maybe he felt nervous, but he didn’t show it.

Once the meal was finished, everyone moved to the lounge, where Doc began to regal them with stories. Doc was a talker, and if you let him, he would talk your ear off. He could find something to tie into either his work or his hobbies out of anything you said.

Lucy tapped Hermione’s shoulder and gestured to the back garden door.

Hermione looked over to Severus, hoping he understood that she would leave him again for a moment. 

Severus gave her a forgiving nod and began to ask questions about Doc’s passion for fishing.

She knew then and there that Severus had just made Doc his best friend.

Excusing herself from the conversation, she slipped out the back door, seeing that Lucy was waiting for her.

“What is going on,” Hermione asked, looking around the yard out of habit.

Lucy tucked her hands into her lap and seemed to fidget. “I kind of fucked up, and mum’s not happy with me.”

“What kind of fuck up?” Hermione’s shoulders tensed.

“A _big_ fuck up,” Lucy whispered, pinching her forehead.

Hermione’s felt her nostrils flare as she considered that this might be a horrible thing. If Lucy was about to give her the news she thought she was, she was going to scream. And that would only be the start of the meltdown. “For the love of Merlin, do **not** tell me you are pregnant.”

Lucy looked shocked, her face distorting into disgust. “No, worse.”

“Worse?” 

“I’m burlesque dancing at a club on the southside.”

“Lucy!” Hermione found herself exclaiming. It was shocking. A lot of that shock did come from the part where Lucy thought that it was worse.

Lucille rolled her eyes, sighing with exasperation. “I know I know, but I love it so much, and I’m not whoring around, I’m just dancing. It makes me feel alive. And I make good money.”

Crossing her arms, Hermione started to pace, falling into a pattern on the familiar stones under her feet. “Let me guess, mum found out, but da doesn’t know, which is why you aren’t crying, but mum is gonna tell da as soon as I leave.”

“Yes, and I need your help,” Lucy begged, her hands clasped together.

Hermione let out a chortle. “How?”

“I don’t know, do something that will make them forget about this for a little bit. Tell them you are getting married or some shite.” Lucy started pacing next to Hermione, falling in step with her.

  
  
  


This was something they had done a million times before. Anytime either of them had gotten into trouble, it would be the two of them trying to figure a way out of it. Hermione could not help but laugh at the madness of it. “I can’t believe this, nine years later, and you are still asking me to clean up after you.”

“No, to help me. And I’ve cleaned up after you too. Mum and da still don’t know about what kind of school you went off to or what you _really_ are.” Lucy said, hands on her hips, eyes knowingly pointed at her.

Hermione gasped, pointing at her friend. “You swore, we made a blood sister _pact_.”

“And I would **never** betray that because you are my sister, but I _need_ your help.” The slightly older woman smirked as if she had won the battle.

Hermione couldn’t help but acknowledge that she had. Lucille had been one of the only people she’d trusted to tell what she was. Where she went every year. Not enough to break any laws, but enough so that Lucille didn’t feel like Hermione was leaving her behind.

“Fine, let’s think, what do you think would be more exciting than you burlesque dancing.” Hermione sighed, sitting cross-legged on the pavers, steepling her fingers.

Lucille clapped her hands, plopping down next to Hermione.“Oh, I know, say you and the suitor are getting married.”

She choked on the thought, shaking her head. “Not happening, I just got divorced, I am not doing it again.”

“What?” Lucille shrieked.

Hermione did not realize how much she’d relied on everyone just knowing her business rather than her having to tell anyone. She’d never informed any of the Sorgfalt’s that she’d married Ron. In the chaos of it, their invitations had been ‘accidentally’ misplaced. She knew it wasn’t an accident now, but then, she was so caught up she couldn’t do much. “Oh, I meant to tell you, but I hadn’t known how. I don’t wanna go into details, so please don’t ask, but I just got divorced. It was pretty nasty and-”

Lucy cut her off, looking hurt. “So you got married, and I _wasn’t_ your maid of honor?”

“No one was my maid of honor if it makes you feel any better.” Hermione sighed, not wanting to get into this at the moment. Hermione did not want to think about the wedding that should have never been, at least, never been with Ron.

Lucille stomped her feet on the ground, grumbling. “It does _not_ , I was supposed to be your maid of honor. How, how could you do this?”

“Lucy, you don’t understand, I had a lot to sort out.” Hermione tried to explain to her without actually explaining anything.

  
  


They sat there in tense silence, and Hermione feared that she’d just destroyed the rekindled friendship with this mishap. Hermione looked over the yard, thinking about all the time she’d spent back here with Lucille. 

“He was like you, hmm?” Lucy finally said, breaking the silence.

Hermione didn’t look at her, only frowning. “Yeah.”

“Was he mean to you?” It was a quiet question that held so many things.

Hermione swallowed and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that.” She adjusted her legs so that she could cross her arms over the top of her knees, resting her chin on them.

‘You don’t have to, I can see it on your face now. How about this bloke.” Lucille gestured toward the house where Severus was likely to be bored out of his mind with fishing stories.

Leaning her head to the side, she smiled softly. “He’s good to me. Really good, saved my life.”

Silent words passed between them. Apologies, explanations. Hermione almost wished she learned how to be a mind reader like Severus to say what she felt without having to actually say it.

“Alright, well, I’ll forgive you for not bringing me to your wedding.” Lucy reached her hand out, putting it on her shoulder.

Hermione grabbed her hand, holding it. “Thank you.”

  
  
  


The woman had a mischievous look in her eyes again, and Hermione was a little bit concerned. Lucy grinned. “Now, I know what we are gonna tell Mum and da.”

“Oh.”

“That you recently got divorced and that Severus saved your life.”

“No.,” Hermione said firmly.

Lucy whined at her. “Come on, it is _perfect_.”

It was not perfect; it was the opposite of perfect. It had all the potential of going wrong, and Hermione was not going to deal with that. “And if Doc thinks that anyone laid a hand on me, he will start tearing apart the world.”

“But you tell him your suitor took care of it. They will eat that up, and he will come out smelling like roses.” An eyebrow waggle accompanied her companion’s argument.

“The answer is no. You are insufferable.” Hermione sighed.

Lucy leaned her head on her now. “But you missed me.”

“You know, I did.” Contentment shifted through Hermione against the aggravation of the previous suggestions.

* * *

The final solution was not to talk about Hermione’s divorce, but instead to drive down memory lane. Lucy had many boxes of photos of them when they were young, and videos and they conspired to instead completely humiliate Hermione in front of Severus.

Hermione knew that Lucille was getting a kick out of it too.

Rejoining Severus on the couch, Hermione took his hand. “I wish to prepare you for what you are about to see. Much of it will horrify you, and I ask you not to judge me too harshly.”

“Mimi, what did you and Lucy do.” Maryanne, her eyes glazed over from her husband’s 100th telling of the time he thought he would be eaten by a shark, looked hopeful for some diversion.

Lucille came charging into the room with a plastic tote in her hands, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “I found the memory boxes.”

Hermione felt Severus press a kiss to her temple, squeezing her hand. “I shall not hold anything I see against you.”

“Wanna bet, there is some gold in here.” The sassy quip came from Lucy, who was already digging into the box.

Severus straightened his shoulders, his professor’s voice coming into play. “I do not indulge in gambles I am not certain I can _win_. So yes, what would you like to bet, Miss Sorgfalt?”

“Um. Shite, I dunno.” Lucy looked shocked.

Hermione snickered and shook her head, looking at Severus. “If you know what is good for you, Lucy, I wouldn’t bet him.”

“I can see that. Anyways, here we go. Primary school picture day.”

  
  


They spent the next half hour going over pictures that Hermione had forgotten were even taken. The looks she gave Lucy told her how much she owed her because some of it was mortifying. Pigtails had been her parents' go-to look for her as a little girl, and Severus had made sure to mention it with a humored chuckle. They’d been in a ton of extracurriculars together, and there was plenty for him to pick on if he chooses. She’d been in gymnastics, ballet, piano classes, violin classes, swimming, pretty much anything her parents could get her to try to seek out her passion. Both their parents had been huge on them finding their passions and running with them.

Hermione’s passion had been academia, learning in all forms.

Lucille’s had been dance.

There were plenty of photos of them dancing around as preteens, singing into a hairbrush. Others were of them just being together. Sleepovers under blanket forts, playing hopscotch, making absolute messes in the kitchen. Each photo reminded her of a life she’d tried to forget, to tuck away because of the pain she thought would be there. Instead, it filled her with a sense of happy nostalgia. Yes, small pangs of longing filled her with every photo of her parents. But these pictures had them smiling and comfortable and not the way she last remembered them.

  
  
  


Hermione found herself giggling as Lucy told stories about the photos, or correcting her when she got a detail askew. Especially when she tried to pin the blame for some long-ago mischief on Hermione. Even Severus let out a few barks of laughter at some of the inane and outrageous tales from her youth. 

The last thing that Lucille pulled out was a stack of VHS tapes. “These look like ones from our birthday parties. Let’s see, Lucy sweet 16, oh here is one of yours, Hermione.”

“Oh, which one.” Hermione was interested. She’d not seen any of these in a long time. The ones that had been in her parents' house were wiped away with the photos. She never thought she’d be able to see them again, so she leaned forward, wondering which childhood party it had been.

Lucile read the label off. “Mimi’s Early 18th - July 6th, 1997.”

It was the last time they were all together. Hermione’s face dropped, eyes wide, and she went cold instantly. Her fingers dug into Severus’s arm with one hand, and she held her other hand out for it, shaking her hand impatiently.

Lucy looked at her with confusion and handed it to her. 

Clutching it to her chest, Hermione tried to not start crying. If the spell had not permeated to this house and not erased the photos, then there was a chance that the tape was still viable. There was a chance. “I- I never got to see this one. Can I borrow it?”

“We can watch it now if you want.” Maryanne offered.

Hermione felt her chest starting to tighten, the first warning of an incoming panic attack. Before she could say a word, she found herself tucked under Severus’s arm, him pulling her close to him. 

His deep voice vibrated against her through his skin. “I think it would be prudent she watches it by herself. If I am right, it was the last birthday she had with her parents.”

The amount of gratitude she had for Severus at that moment was indescribable. She didn’t have the words, and he was fluidly navigating the situation as if he knew just how to do it.

“Yeah, that would have been, wouldn’t it. Shame what happened to David and Jane. So odd.” Doc said with a deep frown.

Maryanne tsked. “I still have a hard time believing that David was taken down by dingos. Jean, yes, she was smaller and not as strong as him. But David had pulled that marlin out of the water, remember Cam, and a Dingo is not that big.”

She couldn’t handle this conversation, not now. They had carefully navigated around the elephant in the room, but she could not have it standing on her and deal with the fact that this video still existed. Her chest was almost constricting, and her head started to swim.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” Hermione said, her voice wavering. Her eyes sought Severus’s, pleading with him to help her get out of there before she could not keep from having a panic attack.

His lips quirked, and he nodded at her. “It is getting late, and I do have to work tomorrow.”

Severus stood up, helping Hermione to her feet. She whispered her thanks to him, before turning to her other family.

Maryanne looked forlorn, standing and hugging her. “Hermione, love, we didn’t mean to upset you.”

Hermione cleared her throat from the tears trying to take her over, and she hugged back, the VHS still in her hand. “No, it’s okay, I just. I need to go home. I want to watch this.”

“Will we see you for tea soon?” It was a question that begged her to not spend so long away this time.

“Yea, have Lucy send me a letter, we can come by in a few weeks, our schedules providing, right Severus?” Hermione let Maryanne go, turning to Severus as she spoke.

He nodded astutely. “Of course. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Thank you for taking care of our girl,” Doc said, getting to his feet and shaking Severus’s hand again.

Severus returned the shake. “As I said, she is very special to me, and I intend to be in her life for a very long time.”

Lucy wrapped her arms around Hermione, and she felt like she was going to cry. 

“Goodbye, love.’ Lucy whispered. “I’ll write, promise.”

  
  
  


It was only a few more minutes of goodbye and hugs before they were back out on the street. Instead of holding Hermione's hand Severus had his arm around her, walking at her pace. 

When they reached the apparition point, he tipped her chin up. “Will you be okay to apparate, or shall I side-along with you.”

“I’ll be fine. I just want to go home.” Hermione said sadly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

His arms tighten around her, and he let out a deep breath. “Hold on, and I will take us straight there.”

“But the energy it will take-” She argued, worried about him. The long-distance apparition took a lot of magical energy for one person, but the amount it would take for them both would wipe him out.

He bore into his eyes with hers. “-will be nothing compared to how I would feel if you splinched yourself.”

She found she couldn’t argue with him, not when all her energy was focused on keeping it together. Gripping the back of his shirt, she pressed her face into his chest. His arms squeezed around her tightly as well.

  
  
  


With a pop, they were in the back garden.

She felt him sag a little, and Hermione kept her arms around him, both ground herself and keeping him upright.

They stood there for a few moments before he took a step back, looking at her. “Are you alright?”

A confused sigh left her. Severus was the one who had just side-apparated her from nearly one end of the country to the other, and Severus was still worried about her instead of him.

Her hands tingled, and her jaw felt tight along with her chest. But she didn't want to tell him that. Not when the fatigue was so clearly written on his face. Even with the pressure in her head telling her that she had a headache coming on, she didn’t want to worry him. “I’ll be fine. Let's get inside.”

“You have become decidedly less proficient at lying to me. Come, I’ll make tea, and then I’ll dig out the telly, and you can watch that.” Severus said, taking her hand, leading her toward the house. His often sure steps were not so much as he unlocked the back door and opened it.

Hermione was very much wondering where he had a telly hidden in the house but didn’t have enough energy to dive into that discovery. Besides, she didn’t need a telly. She’d learned how to play oh VHS tapes without one a long time ago. “You don’t have to. I have a spell.”

“Ah. Well, then I shall make tea and go to bed so that you can have your privacy.” Severus shuffled to the kitchen, his hand on the counter telling her that he wasn’t as sure of his steps either. 

The idea of her being alone at that moment cinched her heart to her breastbone. “Would you mind very much if I watched it with you in bed? I- don’t want to be alone.”

Black eyes met hers, and she saw the questions in them. Severus seemed to think better of asking them, setting the kettle on the stove. “Very well. Tea first.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, placing her face into his back. “Thank you.”

  
  



	68. Because You Loved Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Severus hadn’t been sure what to expect, heading to Hermione’s childhood neighborhood. Before now, he’d never even passed a thought about the life she may have had before Hogwarts. It seemed strange that he’d not made that consideration, but he also understood that he didn’t know very much about many of his former student's home lives if they weren’t in Slytherin. 

Having no framework with which to work, Severus still found himself surprised when the settled on a lawn in Hampstead Gardens. It was such a stark contrast to the streets of Cokeworth where he’d grown up. His hometown spoke of poverty and struggle, and these neatly trimmed, cultivated lawns and homes spoke of affluence.

His mind was driven to focus elsewhere as Hermione seemed to withdraw in on herself on their arrival. She spoke like as if something terrible had happened here before they went on the run that blasted year he was Headmaster. He did not recall Riddle’s forces making it up here, as indeed he would have known if they’d taken her parents hostage. It would have been a cause for celebration. So what was it that had her so frightened? Severus would have to ask her later.

Being guided by the hand down the picturesque lanes, Severus minded his surroundings. He almost felt out of place there. The sensation made him nervous. 

Her tug at his hand as she looked with mournful eyes at a house told him that something had happened there that she did not want to revisit. When he learned it used to be her home, the home she was born in, and grew up in, Severus grew curious. No word about her parents had ever made it to the papers, not that he could recall, and he never even knew they were dead until Hermione had made the statement in the kitchen the previous week about her father had been, past tense, the best of men. 

“It is a beautiful house. No wonder you decorate the way you do.”He offered her comfort in a smile and complimented her decorating skill, hoping to bring her up from the deflated mood she walked in. 

Severus wondered if he should have insisted that they cancel because of this mood. But Hermione had that look in her eyes, under the sadness, saying she had set her mind on this. He knew better than to get in the way of that particular aspect of her. He knew first hand that there was nothing that she could not do if she set her mind on it.

Upon reaching their destination, Severus took care to be polite. He had no desire to insult these people as they obviously meant a great deal to Hermione. The young woman who had to be her age could have easily been mistaken for her sibling with how close they looked. The nickname was new to him as well; he’d never heard her called Mimi by anyone. It was childish, and he found he didn’t like her being called it. It almost demeaned who she was. But it wasn’t his place to say so.

After years of being a professor at an institution full of children, Severus quickly picked up that the two women were speaking in code with their faces. It amused him. He let it show as he allowed himself to be introduced as her suitor. Already the mood had shifted from dinner to something else.

Severus found himself ushered into a home that reminded him of something closer to what Grimmauld place would have been in its glory than what he had imagined. He suspected he thought something more like the Weasley’s Burrow. It was artfully designed and was not cramped like his little house in Cokeworth. Some stirring of shame started in the pit of his stomach, but he placed it back on a shelf so that he could focus on the conversation.

These women seemed to adore Hermione, and she cared for them. He could see it in the smiles and tight embraces. He offered his own polite smiles, taking Hermione’s hand when she reached for it. Externally, he looked comfortable and collected. Inside, he was finding that he felt more and more out of place.

It was the footsteps that had his attention first. Severus’s eyes dawned upon a man that was his elder by many years. His smile fell over Hermione like a beam of sunlight to then shutter slightly as seeing Severus. Severus had to resist the urge to bristle. He knew judgment and assessment when he saw it.

“-oh, hello.” The greying man in a sweater vest offered him.

It was the mother, Maryanne, that made the introductions. “Cameron, this is Severus, he is Hermione’s suitor.”

Hermione moved away, and he glanced at her before moving to greet the apparent patriarch of the house.

“I see. Cameron Sorgfalt, Hermione calls me Doc, but you can call me Cam.” The older man extended his hand first. It was an olive branch in a complicated dance that Severus had never done before. He realized now that he was the boy being brought home to the parents. Never in his life had he been in this position.

Severus took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Severus Snape. I prefer to be called Severus, I have no other nicknames.” It seemed this family had a penchant for nicknames, and he did not desire one gifted to him.

When the use of ‘Mimi’ for Hermione was brought up again, he bit back that it had likely not been her nickname for years. 

Her explanation was more in her eyes than what came out of her mouth. She was clearly begging Severus to not call her it. Severus wouldn’t have called her it regardless, but he made sure to let her know this. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t start calling you it,  _ Hermione _ .” The way she smiled at her given name, along with the kiss to his cheek, told Severus that he was doing well on this new venture to him. He could feel a small boil of nerves in his gut once more as if he were starting a brew to a boil.

Severus, having understood the position he was in now, thought over what would happen next. He’d likely be questioned about intentions and the like and potentially threatened. Based on this muggle family's reaction, they had no idea that he and Hermione were wizarding folk and that she’d come out of a nasty divorce. He would have to navigate his answers carefully.

As if on cue, he found himself seated in a lounge area with Hermione being skirted off to the kitchens. Her brown eyes met his with concern, and he knew that she was afraid to leave him feeling abandoned. Silly woman.

Wordlessly, he reached out to her, hoping to coax her visible nerves.  _ I will be fine, go spend time with your friend… _

With a nod, she was gone, and he was left with Cameron Sorgfalt.

Cameron took a seat with a heavy sigh, leaning back on the sofa. His face still held a grin, but Severus was naturally suspicious of anyone who smiled that long at a stranger. It was either to lure him into a sense of camaraderie to exact information from him, or the man was too trusting.

Severus took a seat on the sofa across from the older bespeckled man. He trained his face into a neutral gaze, waiting with honed patience for the older man to speak.

It did not take very long. “So, Severus, how was the drive.”

“We took the train. It was pleasant.” He offered politely, inclining his head.

A long pause lingered as the small talk sat on the air.

“So, her suitor, huh?” Mr. Sorgfalt hummed curiously.

Severus had no desire for this to turn into a lengthy interrogation. It was best to clear the air and find out what was genuinely being sought in his experience with any interrogation. “If I may, Mr. Sorgfalt.”

“Cameron.” The older man corrected him, stripping away the sense of formality.

_When in Rome…_ Severus thought, taking in a deep breath.

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and leveling the man with a severe gaze. “Cameron. We are both a bit too old to be playing the game where you casually ask about me to learn if I am good enough for Hermione. How about we skip the small talk, and you ask me what you really want to know.”

Cameron let out a chuckle, his hand coming to his chin.

Severus wasn’t sure if he’d made a good impression or a bad one.

“Straight to the point. I like you already. Who are you, and what do you do? Where did you grow up? How do you know Hermione?” The older man asked, his mouth still holding the ghost of a smile, but the rest of his face was intensely focused on Severus.

Severus knew how to deal with those questions, at least.“As I said, I am Severus Snape. I grew up in Cokework in the Midlands. I teach chemistry at a private boarding institution in the Scottish highlands.” 

He paused and considered his next words carefully.“I met Hermione there when she was a student, but before you think me improperly, we have only just begun to be romantically involved in the last year.”

He expected ire, judgment, and damnation. 

What he got was an amused lift of the lips and a nod. “I see. How much older than Hermione are you?”

“I am 45, Hermione is 25, we are a little over 19 years apart.” He’d done the math many times, mostly in the earlier days, when he tried to talk himself out of being with her.

Still, there was no outrage. Severus grew more suspicious, but kept his poker face, concealing his nerves and concern.

Cameron spoke with a laugh. “Maryanne and I are 16 years apart. Not that far off.”

Understanding crossed Severus’s face. This man was in no position to judge him and Hermione, as it would make him a hypocrite. Some of the nerves in his gut settled, as he would seemingly not be fighting for this man’s respect today.

“I see. So you do not have reservations about my courting her.” Severus posed.

The question brought a smirk from the other man. Severus got the distinct feeling he was playing a game of chess and was impressing his opponent. “Not at present. What do you do for entertainment?”

He had to think about this for a moment. Explaining potioneering as chemistry was one thing, but to explain that he worked on magical theory in his spare time was another. “I suppose I gather my enrichment from reading, I try my hand at gardening, and I review research for some academic papers for former students.”

“You seem adept at these sorts of questions.” Mr. Sorgfalt cleared his throat. 

Severus could clearly read between those lines. The man assumed that Severus had had this kind of talk many times before. While it boosted the confidence Severus had at the moment, it also belied a particular assumption that he wanted to put to rest.

“Before you think poorly of me, I will admit this is the first time I am finding myself in such a position. However, I do teach and have been for 24 years, talking and prediction questions come somewhat naturally.” Severus explained, his hand gesturing toward the older man.

Another smile from his opponent. Another piece was removed from the board. “I see. Do you smoke?”

It was Severus’s turn to smirk. “When I am _on_ fire.”

A boom of a laugh left the man, he flicked his hand toward a bar that was in the lounge. “Drink?”

Severus shook his head vehemently. It would be in everyone's best interest that no one drink during this visit. “No, not any longer. For Hermione’s sake. Her previous paramour was a drunk, and she is repulsed by it.”

“Oh, nasty bit of work then.” A dark gaze fell over the man’s eyes, and the smile wavered at the corners. Severus had seen that look before, protective and concerned emotions evident.

Without giving any of Hermione’s private details away, he offered an answer. “Yes, but I have seen to it that he will never be near her again.”

The storm behind the eyes left, and he was given the nod. Approval was apparent in the lines of the face of his conversational partner. “For that, I thank you. I assume you know I am not her father.”

“I have been told,” Severus replied, wondering where this was going. It was a diversion he was unprepared for. While he could talk about himself, he knew nothing about Hermione’s parents and had not thought to study for a quiz on it.

The older man leaned forward now, his elbow on the arm of the chair. He gestured toward the kitchen where it could be heard that the women in there were talking. “Hermione’s father would have wanted the best for her, and with him not here, and her first bringing you home means you are special to her, and I am looking out for her, for her da. He’d do the same for my Lucy if I wasn’t here.”

He swallowed, nodding. This man acted this way out of loyalty to a dead man, who he felt he owed. Severus could understand that intimately. “I understand. Hermione is- significant to me. Important enough that I would subject myself to your questioning when I am normally a  _ very _ private man. I want her happiness, and I plan on being in her life for as long as she will have me. If that is forever, then I will be happy with it.”

“I am glad to hear that. She’s grown a lot since I’ve last seen her.” Cameron Sorgfalt said, a wistful sort of sorrow in his voice. It did not take a mind reader to see that the man had missed Hermione and cared for her like his own.

Severus felt compelled to put him at ease, where it concerned Hermione. “She is a beautiful and talented young woman, and she has been through much in her life. Hermione is unlike anyone I have ever met before. I’m glad she has decided to start reconnecting with her past.”

“I am too. I have to say, it is nice to see that Mimi is with someone mature and not a daft boy who cannot keep up with her.” Cameron offered.

Severus could not suppress the snort. “As am I.”

Another silence fell, this one was not as heavy as the last. Severus wondered if the test was over, or if the board was being reset.

“Do you like cornish pastries?” Cameron asked, his head inclining to the kitchen.

The house was full of the smell of them. Severus nodded. “I do.”

A decided nod accompanied the man's words as he got to his feet. “Good, my wife has been cooking all day, and she’ll want to know how much you like them. She’s been in a flurry of cooking and cleaning since our Mimi said she was coming.”

Severus realized that he was in a unique position to find out what had happened here to make Hermione so concerned on the street. Why had she looked at the house next door like she was looking at a grave? This man seemed to trust him now, which followed that Severus was right, and he was too trusting to begin with.

“How long have you known Hermione and her family.” Severus pried, leaning back in his seat.

The short man stopped in his stride toward the kitchen. “I knew her father for years before she was born, we had practices next to each other. I held Hermione the day she was born, so you can say I’ve known her all her life, except for the past 9 years when she and her parents disappeared overnight.”

“Disappeared?” Severus wondered what sort of disappearance he was talking about.

Cameron stopped by his mantle, his arm resting on it as he touched his forehead. “Yes, no note, no goodbye. Closed the practice without a word and just gone. House full of things left behind. Wasn’t for another year that we heard that Hermione was still alive but that her parents had been killed.”

_ Killed….  _

_ Hermione had never mentioned it…  _

_ Why? With all he knew about her, why did she never mention that her parents were killed?...  _

_ Did she assume he already knew?...  _

_ Was it death eaters or something else?...  _

Severus asked for more information. “How did that happen, their murder.”

“Not sure why, but they up and went to Australia, according to Hermione’s letter. She said they’d been killed in the wilds by a pack of dingos. Sounds rubbish to me. David would have never up and closed his practice if he weren’t running from something. And Jean would have never left without saying goodbye to her goddaughter Lucy if it weren’t for something chasing em. Whatever it was, I think it got them, and Hermione went into hiding. That’s just the ramblings of an old man, however-” Cameron sighed, his face paling a bit before an angry grimace crossed his lips. 

He continued. “-David Granger could fireman carry a fully grown man up and down the block. We camped every summer in the Forest of Dean, him and me teaching the girls how to live off the land or at least survive long enough to find help if they got lost. You can’t tell me that a dingo, or even a pack of them, took on a full-grown woodsman and his wife without suspicious circumstances.”

“That does sound strange.” He agreed, wondering if that was why Hermione was so worried when they first landed here. 

_ But the man had said Australia, what on earth were they doing there?... _

Cameron looked sullen for a moment, with the expression of a man who grieved someone close to him. “I don’t mean to ramble on about it. Seeing her just reminds me of how mysterious it all was. But I am glad that she’s alright and happy. You take care of my goddaughter.”

“I intend to,” Severus said firmly, now adding the murder of her parents to the list of things he was going to ask her about and look into

The older man crossed the room to him, shaking his hand once more. It was like a deal was being struck this time, and Severus knew he had this man’s approval. “Then you and I will get along just fine. Let’s eat.”

* * *

From there, the rest of the afternoon went rather well. Once Severus had gained the approval of the man of the house, there was no other probing or pressing for information about him unless he freely gave it. He rather enjoyed hearing about Hermione growing up. It was very different from his childhood. He even suffered with grace through the man's uninteresting tales while Hermione and her friend scurried off to some secret meeting. 

When they had returned with photographic evidence of Hermione’s childhood, he knew she was doing her friend a favor. He’d worked around enough adolescent girls to understand when a girl was obviously hiding something, and the young Lucille had it written all over her face. Hermione, in her Gryffindor bravery, had put herself on the slab to be humiliated to help conceal it.

It was easy to keep his promise to not judge her, because the more he learned about her relatively privileged childhood and healthy family relationships, the more he started to consider himself. He’d promised that he’d be there for her, be there and be a part of a family with her if she wanted it, but he came to realized that they might have completely different ideas about what a family was.

Severus had expected that she came from a whole family, not one shattered and broken as he had, but he did not expect that she’d come from a good family as it were. It pulled a lot of things into question. If this is what she’d grown up with; if this affluence and wealth was her baseline, then why did she want to be with him in his shitty little house. Doubt was a comfortable companion as he felt like an outsider. A welcomed outside, but still not a part of the fold.

His thoughts were corrupted by nails digging into his arm, and he watched as Hermione went rigid. The mention of tape had her scrambling for it. 1997- That was the year he would never forget. It was the start of his year as Headmaster.

Severus did some rather basic math, realizing that this video likely was the last time she ever saw her parents. He drew her into his side, noticing how the color had drained from her face. Her pupils were widening like they often did before she had an anxiety attack.

“I think I am ready to go home,” Hermione whispered in a shaky voice. Her eyes were looking at him for shelter, for safety, and he could not deny her at that moment.

The retreat was a polite but hasty one. Severus had packed a panic puff just in case, but he knew that she was trying to tackle her attacks without the help. She was stubborn like that, but he respected it.

Out on the street, he tucked his arm around her tightly, trying to do as he had read and ground her to something physical. Him, his touch, anything that would keep her mind focused on the present. 

Walking down the streets with her in solemn silence left him to his worries and his thoughts. 

Hermione came from money, from wealth, and from a home that seemed loving and kind. She had a best friend that she’d grown up with, someone almost like a sister. Even in the wizarding world, Hermione was wealthy and renown, Draco had made sure her assets were untouched by his collection on Ron’s debts. She was young, beautiful, talented, and intelligent.

He’d come from nothing, absolute nothing, with horrid family life and no friends to speak of him fondly. He was not wealthy, while he did not want, he did not have the means that she had. He was old and broken, with talent and wit; yes, and renown as well, but it was always half and half on how he would be received.

_How could she want him? Why did she want him?_

Hermione did not look at him when they stopped on the lawn under the tree, and he was worried about her. It added to the layers of concern in his chest.

When he asked if she’d be alright to travel on her own, he knew she wasn’t by the looking in her eyes. Her hands wove around his waist, and she drew close to him.

But it was the words that stirred him. “I’ll be fine. I just want to go _home_.”

Again she had called his house, his little dirty corner of the world, _home_. Each time she said it amazed him before, and now, even more so, knowing what she’d called home before.

He held her tight, not taking her arguments as he decided that they would skip the floo and go straight to the place that she wanted to be.

* * *

Hermione had held on to his back the entire time that he stood there, making the tea. He did not complain, as it did not require much movement, but it did worry him on how much this had emotionally drained her. She wasn’t crying into his back, just pressing her face between his shoulder blades and breathing deeply, as if she were trying to center herself.

He had magically drained himself on the trip home, but he had been willing to make that sacrifice. His eyes were heavy, and all he wanted was his tea and to tuck into bed. He knew he’d not sleep until Hermione had relaxed, but at least in bed, his body would not complain as much.

The tea whistled, and he poured them both a cup. Hermione had now graced the cupboard with her own teacup as well as her mug, and he made sure to use it. There was hardly a place where she’d not started leaving little pieces of herself. It made him feel better.

“Tea is done.” He whispered, grabbing one of her hands, kissing it softly.

Her words were murmured into his back. “Thank you.”

She let him got, her hand reaching for her cup. It would be informal tea time, he noticed as she leaned against the counter with her cup.

“Anytime. Your friend is interesting.” Severus observed.

Hermione looked up, her sad expression shifting to curiosity. “Lucy? How so.”

Severus smirked and giving her a knowing look. “She would have been a Slytherin.”

“How do you know that.” Hermione seemed part affronted with her curious nature.

Severus took a drink of his tea before answering her, letting the quiet add to the conversation. “You think I did not notice the unspoken conversation between the two of you and your interactions. She was desperately trying to hide something from her parents and put your Gryffindor bravery to work so that your embarrassment for the evening would save her.”

She did not deny it. Instead, she was looking at the ground again as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “She is a burlesque dancer. Her father doesn’t know, but now her mother does, and she was going to tell him when we left.”

“I dare not ask anymore,” Severus said, holding his hand up. The mere fact that she was willing to share the confidence of her friend spoke wonders.

Hermione wrapped both her hands around her cup, making a face. “I don’t know the whole story, but dance was always her passion. I understand needing something to feel alive.”

“As do I.” He rumbled over his steaming tea.

They stood in companionable silence, drinking their tea. Hermione was done first and made it the sink before he could wash her up. She waited expectantly for him to finish. It had been another one of the patterns they had fallen into. Whoever was at the sink first did the dishes of the moment. It had been an unspoken argument that ended up with her not moving from the sink and him deciding it was not the hill he would die on.

He offered her his cup and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I am going to go get ready for bed.”

“I’ll join you in a moment,” Hermione said, washing his cup now. Her voice was quiet.

He lingered with his head next to hers. “Will you be alright?”

“I will. Go so I can use the loo after you.” She turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Severus turned ad went about his preparations for the evening.

Hermione had cleaned and redecorated the bedroom. To say he was elated that he was not sleeping in Gryffindor scarlet sheets was an understatement. No, she’d surprised him with simple grey sheets that were luxuriously soft and cooling. In the summer heat, they were a godsend as he no longer woke up sweaty. The curtains were cream and thicker to keep out the light, which he knew she did so he’d sleep in with her. A white afghan was thrown across the bottom of the bed.

Her hard work had also made the wood in the room look new, and the paint no longer looked like it was on its last leg. She’d even added a piece of furniture that he’d not expected. In the corner of the room by her side of the bed was a full-length mirror. It was covered with a cloth, but he’d seen her looking at herself clothed one morning as he was heading to the loo.

It was an improvement, and he knew it was because of Leliana Shade. The woman had somehow poised Hermione into the perfect position to make her recovery a learning experience. If he’d thought of it, he would have been giving her more books when they were at Hogwarts. As it was, his new books had already been perused.

Along with the mirror, she’d put her own chest of drawers, giving him back the two drawers he’d managed to find for the clothes she wanted to store when she started leaving her things out. The room no longer felt as it had before. It wasn’t just some place he went to and slept to rise again and repeat. Now, it felt like a sanctuary, inviting, and calming. He didn’t know what she did, and she continued to tell him that she had no idea what he was talking about, but every room she touched came out of it transformed. And not in look alone, but in very feel. 

Severus slid into the sheets, laying his head back and letting out relieving breath. His bed even felt as if she had restored it. His body was grateful for it. He draped his arm over his head, waiting for her to join him.

A few moments later, he was dozing slightly as she made to get her nightclothes. She’s graduated from long pants to shorts in the summer heat, much as he had. Her top was often one of his teeshirts, which he wasn’t complaining about. There was something about seeing her in his clothing that tightened his chest.

Hermione slid into the bed next to him, the plastic VHS tape in her hands. Her lips were drawn in a tight line. He tucked his arm down around her.

He whispered into her hair. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Her voice was shaky as her fingers drew over the plastic.

Severus drew his fingers down the side of her cheek. “You do not have to watch it tonight.”

Hermione shook her head at him, sighing. “You don’t understand.”

“Help me to understand.” He turned now, looking into her brown eyes. Severus desperately wanted to be supportive of her and to know why this shook her so profoundly.

Her brown eyes met his, and they were laden with guilt. He’d never seen her look so guilty before in his life, and he’d seen her at very guilty points of her life. Her lips flatted as she curled them in as if she were biting them.

“What is it? What happened to your parents, Hermione?” Severus whispered, his hand cupping her face.

She let out a second shaky breath. 

“I obliviated them.” Her eyes closed shut like she was reliving something painful, her face wincing. “I erased my existence and sent them to Australia three days after this was taped. If the spell did not touch it, then, it is all I have left of them.”

His eyes glanced over her face, as understanding settled in. “You obliviated your parents?”

Memory magic required a lot of skill. For her to have erased herself entirely would have been emotionally, mentally, and magically exhausting. For her to have done it to her own parents, he imagined doubly so.

Still keeping her eyes closed, she nodded. “I had to, you know what would have been done to them if Voldemort got them. I couldn’t leave them- they would have no way to defend themselves.” Tears started to drip from under her eyelashes. “I thought they would be safe. I was wrong, and they died, not even knowing I existed. This is all I have left.”

He coiled his arms around her, pulling her to his bare chest. “You could not have known.”

“I should’ve.” Hermione disagreed. “I should have known that nowhere was safe for them. I should have tucked them in into Grimmauld Place, or the Burrow. I should have found someplace safer, a secret kept place.”

Severus understood this kind of guilt. It was the guilt of not being able to save those who you desperately wanted to. He swallowed hard and kissed her head, rubbing her back. He was at a loss of what to do at the moment. He also noticed that Hermione, while getting better, she was still waffling in her emotions, easily from one to the next. It concerned him.

Exhaling deeply, he shifted, pulling her on to his chest. Hermione curled on him, her hair spreading over his skin as she rested her face against his sternum. She was not sobbing or even crying heavily. It was a kind of grief that had no more tears to give.

Severus ran his hand through her hair, minding the unavoidable tangles.“I do not attempt to say that I knew them, or what they would want, but based on what I did see and hear today, would your parents have wanted you to blame yourself, Hermione?” 

Her forehead pressed into his skin, and she rocked her head back and forth. A clear and definitive ‘No.’

“Then, perhaps, you should take that into account,” Severus whispered.

After a few moments, Hermione adjusted, her head moving into the crook of his arm. She looked at him with a red face. “I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”

“Likely gotten into a lot of trouble with your friend, no doubt.” He raised an eyebrow, teasing her.

His act earned him an attempted smile. “Maybe.”

She grabbed her wand and the tape, her breathing was evening out. With her wand, the light in the room went out, and she tapped the video once. “ _ Proiectura movens _ .”

It was a spell he’d used before, but not on a VHS tape. It worked on the projector at Hogwarts. She must have altered the extent. He watched as Hermione sat up on the bed, her wand drawing out a rectangular shape. Setting the tape down on the duvet in front of her, she taped it, and the film started to play.

He found himself looking at a set of stairs.

“Hermione, hurry, come quick!” A man’s voice shouted.

There was a thunder on the stairs, and into view came a wild-eyed young Granger. If his math was right, this was only a month after the attack on Hogwarts. She looked ready for a fight. Her eyes fixed on the camera, and he saw her deftly tuck her wand away. The room flooded with the sound of voices yelling surprise.

Severus watched the film play out, noting how her eyes were not happy even as she smiled and played along with the event. It had started out with protesting, but she relented. The man holding the camera was coaxing her into cheering up.

It was more difficult than he thought it would have been for him to watch this. Here he was watching a young woman, barely an adult, struggling with battles that no one around her even knew about. It resonated with him. He sat up next to her, placing a hand on the small of her back. Her eyes were fixed on the projection.

A woman came into view, and he knew instantly that it was her mother. The same nose and brow line, same smile as Young Granger. Her eyes were blue, however, unlike Hermione’s honey brown. 

The party continued, with games and gifts. Looking very much like a twin to Granger, Lucy had dragged her into the living room to do some dance about Macaroni. It didn’t make any sense, but that was one of the few fleeting moments he saw happiness on her face.

“Okay, okay, wait, before we do cake, you and I need to do something.” The cameraman said.

Granger seemed to chuckle and protest. “Daddy...”

The voice seemed to tut with laughter.“It is not every day, my little girl turns 18, and since you will not be with us on that day, we are doing it now.”

“Alright.” Granger agreed, holding her hands out. 

The view shifted and juggled for a moment. “Doc, hold the camera. Lucy, if you would.”

Severus watched a tall man come into view, taking Granger’s hands in his. 

“I told you I would dance with you every year.” Hermione’s father said, walking her to the center of the living room. Young Lucy was changing discs on a CD player, the music shifting to a slow song.

Severus heard Hermione sniffle next to him and saw tears running down her face. 

He looked at the projection again. Young Granger had wrapped her arms around her father, her head buried in his shoulder as he danced with her around the living room. He could see her eyes, and they were so full of pain and anguish that he had to swallow back emotions.

He could see then that she knew what she would have to do, and she was hurting. 

Severus wrapped his hand around Hermione’s hip, sliding closer to her. Her eyes were glued to the scene before them.

“It’s a Celine Dion. The song.” Hermione broke the reverent silence. “‘Because you loved me’ is what it is called. I haven’t heard it in years.”

The song ended, and Severus watched as David Granger kissed his daughter's head. He did not understand that kind of parental affection, and it made him ache for her more, knowing that she willingly gave it up.

Severus took a look at the man as he returned to the cameraman's position. Cameron Sorgfalt was right; David Granger did not look like the sort of man to be taken down by dogs. Next to him, young Granger looked small and still childlike.

The party continued for a little longer; he watched her take her first alcohol shot and do cake and presents. 

Severus could sense that it was coming to a close, and Hermione reached out and took his hand in hers.

The voice behind the camera spoke, zooming in on young Granger’s face.“Alright, honey, since you know we are going to show this to your children if you decide to have them, what do you want to say to them.”

“David!” It was the voice that Severus guessed was her mother.

David Granger argued back. “No, honestly, treat it like a time capsule.”

“Dad.” Young Granger protested. Her eyes were tired, and Severus could see bags under them.

“Please, for your poor old father, do this.”

“Fine.” Young Granger relented.

Her shoulders seemed to slump a bit as she ran something over in her mind. A deep breath in, and she looked at the camera squarely. In her eyes was that fire, the brilliant mind that Severus had come to love. Her jaw set, and she seemed like she was preparing a speech.  “May you always do what is right, even when it is hard, no,  _ especially _ when it is hard. Sacrifice is the hardest part of life, but it will be worth it. It  _ has _ to be worth it. If I have children, it will have been worth it because it was a safe enough world to have you. And if I never have children, and you are someone who loved me, who is looking for a memory of me because I am no longer here, then please, honor me and do what is right, always before what is easy.”

“Mimi, that was kind of dark,” Lucy said, wrapping her arms around Young Granger.

Young Granger looked at her friend and gave her a tired smile. “You never know what the future holds. For all we know, we could be dead tomorrow.”

“Alright, I think you either had too much tequila or not enough.” Lucy teased her, pulling her toward the table.

Young Granger shook her head. “I am never drinking again. Can we stop filming now, dad?”

“Sure thing. One last happy birthday, honey. I love you.” The voice said, and then the film ended.

Severus turned to Hermione, tilting his head. “You were prepared to die.”

“Weren’t you that year?” She said quietly, leaning her head against his shoulder now.

He could not argue with her; Severus had prepared to have been killed long before that time. It was just so startling to see it in her when all he had ever seen of her during any time of conflict was unwavering optimism.

She flicked her wand, and Severus watched the tape glide to side on her chest of drawers. She then shifted, lying down with her back to him.

Severus didn’t know how to take it. 

_Was she angry at him for saying that she was ready to die, or just dwelling on the tape…_

He laid on his pillow, watching her, wondering if he should reach out for her or not. 

Hermione answered his question, reaching her hand back for him. 

Taking the clue, he slid up behind her, wrapping her into his arms. He didn’t know what to say or even what to do in this case. But he could give her comfort in his embrace and presence.

Her quiet words filled the room. “Do you think that I am stupid for being this upset? About my parents.”

“Not at all.” Severus rumbled into her ear, holding her to his chest.

She continued to speak. “Everyone else lost so much, and I always thought I had no right to.”

Severus pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Everyone has a right to grieve.”

He continued to offer her tender kisses on her shoulder and the side of her face, trying to relax the anguish that he knew was stirring in her. He could feel her breathing as he had shown her, holding breaths between inhales and exhales.

“I will have to talk to Dr. Shade about this.” She let out a small huff.

Severus wholeheartedly agreed that this needed to be addressed with a professional. He didn’t know how to ease her mind. “Yes, you will. I think you might want to take the tape with you.”

“I will. I see her Tuesday morning.” Hermione said, turning her face toward him.

He leaned his head against her shoulder. “I have an appointment myself Tuesday morning.”

“With Dr. Shade?” Hermione seemed to be surprised, and she shifted more toward him.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Not the same one as you. Healer Shade and I have some things to discuss.”

“About me?” There was worry in her tone.

He looked up, meeting her eyes in the dark. “Not everything is about you, daft woman.”

“Well, Tell Healer Shade I said hello.” Hermione sounded calmer now, almost drowsy.

“And you tell Leliana Shade that I am very pleased with your progress.” Severus hummed.

She laid her head down into the pillow, adjusting into his embrace. “I will. Goodnight, Severus.”

“Goodnight, Hermione.”

He held her until she was fast asleep, even after his arm fell asleep, and his eyes were barely open. Once he knew she was in a deep sleep, he untangled from her and looked at the ceiling. He counted back from one hundred until his mind finally went to sleep.

But before he did, he committed to memory that he was going to find out what really happened to Hermione’s parents.


	69. Love and other Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

She did not feel as miserable in the morning as she had when she’d gone to sleep. There were some notes of grief, but grief that she’d felt before. It was not overwhelming, but the sadness from missing her parents was still there. Hermione’s eyes blinked open in the darkened room, and she tried to discern what time it was.

Severus was still snoring behind her, his wand hand thrown over her hip. Hermione turned in in the bed, facing him. His face was relaxed in slumber, his jaw hanging open as his face pressed into the pillow. She ignored the smell of his morning breath, knowing that hers was likely not any better as she reached her hand out to touch on his chest.

Her lips curled into a smile as she gently traced her fingers over his skin. 

Severus looked peaceful.

Hermione admired him; contentment and amazement crawling from her brow to her toes. Marveling at the fact that she was here with him, being allowed to witness him at his most vulnerable. Fingertips curved over his collarbone featherlight. Hermione felt the light haze of affection roll over her mind like a gentle wave. Her chest tingled with warmth as she watched his chest rise and fall. 

He made a soft sound in his sleep, like a hum as her fingers danced along his shoulder. A chunk of black hair fell across his face, draping over his nose. 

Reaching forward, she pushed the hair back behind his ear. Leaning in, she pressed a gentle kiss on his brow.

Watching him slumber like this made it easy for her to understand why she was in love with him. And she was in love with him. Madly so. Never in a million years would she have thought that in his bed, in his arms, would be the place where she felt like she belonged most. Where she felt loved for being her, not because of what she represented.

Her mind started to wander somewhere she’d rather it not go; to times when she was only wanted for her status. So she pushed it away, placing her fingers on his face and ever so softly tracing his features.

Severus’s breathing softened, the snoring regressing to a softer inhale. 

Knowing that he was waking up, she continued her mapping of his face. Her knuckle traced down the side of his jaw, the slightest stubble catching her skin. Hermione watched his lip twitch and his eyes moving under his lids. Tracing her index finger over his bottom lip, he let out a soft rumble.

“Good morning.” The words left her as a barely audible breath as she pushed more of his hair away from his face.

The hand on her hip gripped down, his fingers flexing along the hem of her shorts, drawing her closer.

“Morning.” Severus rumbled, turning his face from her as he drew her close. Another inaudible whisper left his lips. The softest touch of magic fell over her mouth, and it was as if she’d drank something minty. Severus had obviously agreed that her morning breath was on par with his. He turned toward her now, his hand capturing her chin. He pressed a kiss to her lips, his breath mingling with hers smelling as hers tasted. 

It was a lazy, tender kiss, the sleepiness in him still there. The hand on Hermione's hip slid around her butt. Hermione felt him squeeze before sliding up her back, pulling her close. 

He chuckled against her lips before drawing back to look at her. “A proper good morning, I think.”

“I don’t know, I think I shall need another before I can be sure.” Hermione hummed.

Her heart squeezed with the slight upturn of his lips as he leaned back, this time kissing her with much more intention. Her fingers found purchase in his hair as he snogged her breathless. Drawn into him, his hand was on her back, pressing her along the length of his body. The other hand's fingers supported her face as he conquered her lips. His obvious morning erection was pressing against her stomach through their clothing. Tendrils of desire ran around her spine as he drew back, her heart rate climbing.

“A proper good morning?” Severus purred, black eyes watching her.

All she could do was nod and agree breathlessly. 

Face flush and mind brimming with ideas of ways she could make it a more even proper good morning for him. Her hand moved down his side, brown eyes seeking his. 

He smirked, slipping his hand to catch hers. “As much as I would love to see where your mind was heading to become action, I am afraid we must abstain, my love.”

Hermione felt her forehead wrinkle as she tilted her head at him, desire taking a backseat to curiosity. 

He cleared his throat, turning from her and rubbing his forehead. “I intended to mention it to you, but other things were more important. I am to avoid, if I can, having an orgasm until Tuesday morning?”

“Why is that?” Hermione shifted up on her elbow, her hand resting on his chest above his heart.

If she didn’t see it herself, she would have believed it was impossible, but Severus blushed. From his chest to his cheeks, and he averted his eyes from her. Now he had her full attention.

Another throat clearing escaped him.

“As I said, I have an appointment with Healer Shade.”

Hermione looked up, thinking for a moment on how one had to do with the other. Then it dawned on her. Severus was going to an actual appointment with Artimis Shade, not a research conversation. Healer Shade was a fertility specialist. That could only mean one thing in this context.

“You’re being-” She hardly knew how to make the rest of the words come out. If she was right, then it made Severus's conviction to the conversation they’d had coming on a week ago-- real.

He looked at her, and she felt his eyes searching hers. “Yes, I’m being tested to see if I am capable of fathering children.”

  
  
  


Swallowing, her head tilted to the side. Words escaped her as a mild form of shock washed her veins. They hadn’t even progressed to being able to have sex, but he was-- he was serious about children. Did this mean that they were going to try soon? Was he thinking about this as a way to progress her into being able to have sex sooner?

Severus seemed to sense her thoughts, and he turned to her, touching her cheek. “Do not think of that as some kind of rush on my part. I simply must know, one way or another. Please do not assume anything beyond that. If it comes to the point in our future where that is something desired, I want to have an answer firmly in my mind.”

Exhaling, she nodded—that made sense. Severus was not a man who liked to be left in the dark about anything. Leaning forward, her forehead pressed to his chest. 

“I didn’t expect you’d actually-”

“-follow up my words with action?”

When he said it like that, she felt a touch ashamed of the notion. 

Hermione did not lie, however, as she nodded against him.

His hand moved along her back. “I will convince you, one day, that I am not like your ex-husband.”

She jerked her head up, narrowly missing smashing into his jaw. “You are nothing like him. Not in a million years.”

Before he could say anything, she kissed him. Kissed him with abandon. Doing everything to impress on him how much he meant to her and how much she loved him. She didn’t stop until it was him breathless.

Severus was panting, his eyes holding hers in their gaze as his hands cupped her face. “He was a fool, and I will endeavor to never be so foolish as to lose you. It would be my greatest sin to break a heart such as yours a second time.”

“Poetry in the morning? Very romantic.” She teased him.

His face fell flat, even as his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Miss Granger, if I started reciting poetry to you at this moment, I do not think I could keep your hands off me.”

“Oh, you could. Now, you start talking magical theory, and we might have a problem, Professor Snape.” Hermione threw his title back at him as he had her name.

His lips twisted into a smirk, and he pressed a kiss to her brow. “You are insufferable.”

Hermione bit her lip, looking at him with mock innocence as if she had no idea what he was talking about. “Would you have me any other way?”

“Not for all the magic in the world,” Severus growled, pulling her close into another kiss. It was short-lived. 

  
  
  


Before she knew it, he was rolling to his side of the bed, sitting up. She laid back on her pillow, letting all the positive emotions in her congeal into a blissful pool in her gut.

He stood up, stretching. “Now, I need a cold shower before I have to go teach those idiots with Lucius today.”

Stretching across the whole bed, halfway into his spot, she yawned. “I’ll get up and make coffee while you do.”

“Coffee is my job, madam. You just lie there indulging in a few more minutes in bed, and I will make the coffee when I surface from Antarctica.” Severus gestured his hand at her, pulling clothes from his dresser.

Making a face, she sat up, looking at him with a raised brow. He didn’t fool her one bit. “You’re afraid I won’t make it right?”

Severus smacked his lips as he looked at her thoughtfully. “You can brew potions that many people can only dream of, but you make coffee weaker than a newborn kitten.”

Crossing her arms, she pouted at him. His response to her pout was to laugh and leave the room, settling the situation that he would be the one making the coffee.

* * *

Hermione watched the tape a few more times while Severus was gone. Each time, it hurt a little less. Every playthrough reminded her that she thought she’d lost this tape and all the other tapes forever. That she’d thought she’d never been able to hear their voices again. This tape immortalized her parents for her. 

Instead of crying, she started smiling. Hermione missed them more than she could put into words, but if she closed her eyes, she could pretend for a minute that they were in the room with her. That her father was telling her that he loved her. Her mother was pressing a kiss to her temple as she told her how proud of her she was.

It was cathartic, and by the time Severus had come home, her mood had greatly improved. It was the first time that exposure therapy seemed to give her the results she was looking for. Still nothing it in her journal, Hermione prepared for the coming meeting only a few days away. 

The next several days seemed to move faster than she thought they should have. 

Severus had let her into his lab, which was much nicer than she’d anticipated a bomb bunker lab being. He was working on the strange confections that his associate had requested. Severus would never tell her who on earth had requested the Panic Puffs and other items, and she stopped asking when he explained that he was contractually obligated to keep his silence. Until Severus was able to, he would never tell her. He was good at keeping a secret.

The bedroom was finished, she’d deep cleaned the old carpet, not wanting to know what all it was that she pulled up as she did. It was softer now like it had likely been when it was put in. She’d added some black and white abstract paintings. She didn’t want to stray far from a grey color palette, knowing that Severus wouldn’t have liked it colorful. 

When she’d shown him the finished project, Hermione noticed how his face seemed to soften. Every room she’d cleaned and decorated had made him give her this look. It was as if he was enamored with her and baffled at the same time. It made her feel good, both the look and de-aging the house. Severus deserved it. The fact that he appreciated the act of her doing it made it even more worth it.

There were only two more rooms in the house that she could do this too, as he’d expressly forbidden her from changing his office and lab. The spare bedroom, which she’d spied boxed and furniture in, and the library. Hermione wanted to do the library last because it would be a massive project and very much a labor of love.

If she was honest with herself, the whole thing was a labor of love. Of showing Severus how much she loved him by doing something he had not done for himself. That was the sole reason she’d started this in the first place. Hermione couldn’t think of a time where she had seen someone do something for Severus without wanting something in return, and this was her way of selflessly giving of herself to him. 

Chasing away the ghosts that this house had to have for him, to make a home for him, a home for them.

* * *

  
  


Before she knew it, Tuesday morning was dawning on them. The smell of coffee woke her along with the cold spot to her side, where Severus had long departed. Scratching her head, she ambled down the stairs yawning. The sun was barely cresting over the buildings, far earlier than Severus was usually up.

He was fully dressed in his dark frockcoat. Severus was leaning on the counter, reading the paper a scowl on his face.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Hermione asked him, slipping up next to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Severus's dark eyes shifted over her, and the rigidity of his shoulders seemed to relax as he leaned toward her. “I detest healers. My mind is not easy.”

“Would you like me to go with you? Or you could reschedule.” Draping her arm around him, she commiserated with him. She was not a fan of being poked and prodded either. 

Severus shook his head, his black hair shifting back and forth, concealing his face, setting the paper down on the counter.“I feel- if you went with me, it would not ease my mind. And to reschedule on Shade would tell her more than me showing up tense. I will be fine.”

Hermione could see how tense he was, and she put her hands on his shoulders, pressing her thumbs into the back of his shoulder blades as she tried to rub the tension away. Her fingers gripped the front of his shoulders as she ran from his neck back out. “Can I do anything to help?”

“You can continue what you are doing with your hands,” Severus said with a grunt of pleasure. He stood up, giving her more comfortable reach as his head leaned forward.

Hermione began to let her hands work over his wool coat, pressing firmly to get through the material. His hands gripped the counter as she worked over him. “You like your shoulders rubbed?”

Severus snorted. “Are there people who do not?”

There was a pause in her movements, and she thought about answering him. It was hard to not answer him with he looked over at her, black eyes probing for the reason she had halted.

She shrugged, going back to flexing her hands over the crisp fabric.“I don’t usually. Hands too close to my neck.”

“Hmm, I see.” His voice was breathy as his head once again leaned forward.

  
  


Continuing to rub his shoulders, Hermione watched as the tension left him. It was as if it pooled down from his head and disappeared as it went down. Hermione began to work with both hands on one shoulder, pressing along the bone she could feel in circular motions with her thumbs. 

He growled as she moved over a spot on his left shoulder. “Mmhmm, yes, that spot right there.”

“Is that where your shoulder used to hurt?” Hermione rose her eyebrow, moving over the space again. His jaw tightened, and it almost looked like he was in pain, but the noises he made were opposite of that.

Severus answered her. “Still hurts from time to time, as it should. Some nerves carry memories of pain.”

Not once had he brought up that he was still in pain after the sling had been removed. In fact, he never spoke of his injury at all. She titled her head, moving to the right shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me when it hurts.”

“So that you can fret over me? I think not.” He huffed, head lulling away from where her hands were working.

“No. So I can take care of you. Help you feel better?” If she wasn’t otherwise occupied rubbing his shoulders, she would have stomped indignantly. She wouldn’t fret over him; Hermione would do what was needed to help ease the pain. It made her wonder what else he didn’t tell her about to keep her from worrying. “Like I am helping you to feel better now.”

He was quiet for a moment, except for a few noises of relief. He groaned and rolled his neck, turning now to face Hermione. “I suppose this does feel better.”

  
  


The sun was shining into the kitchen window, throwing lines of sunshine over her bare feet and his oxfords. If he was already ready, there was a chance that he would have to go soon. “When do you have to leave?”

Severus reached behind him, grabbing his coffee cup and taking a deep drink of it. He held it in his hand, shaking his head as if he didn’t want to return his thoughts to the appointment. “Shade has made me a special appointment before most of the other staff have arrived.”

Raising her eyebrow at that, “I suppose you asked for secrecy?”

Draining the rest of his cup, he set it on the counter. His long fingers found her hips, and he drew Hermione into his embrace. His voice was low and quiet as he responded. “I did. The rest of the world has no business in our life.”

Butterflies danced along ‘our life’ as it went from her ears to her stomach, leaving a warm trail behind it. Her smile was involuntary as she pressed her hands to his coat. “No, it doesn’t.”

  
  
His eyes glanced at the clock on the wall above the fridge. A frown snuck over his lips, “I have to go.”

“A kiss before you go.” Hermione pressed up on her toes, moving into his space.

Severus deftly dodged her advance, eyebrow raised as he slid his hands up her arms. “No, I shall you leave you unkissed and longing.”

“Bastard.” She groused.

The frown took on a more severe station on his face. “Now, I’m really not kissing you.”

Battling her eyelashes at him as if she were insipid, she pouted. “Severus, I meant it in the most affectionate manners.”

Hermione swore that he rolled his eyes into the back of his head before he shook it. “I see. I suppose I would be a cur for not giving my lady that which she desires.”

Lips pressed together in an affectionate kiss, and he squeezed her to him.

As he leaned up from her, Hermione smiled victoriously. “Goodbye.”

  
  


Hermione took a step back from him, and he placed his cup in the sink, giving her an apologetic look that both asked for her to wash it and her forgiveness for him asking her to. She flicked her hand at him, ushering him from the sink and into the library where the floo was. 

“I will likely be home after you. I have some stops to make, and Shade will no doubt want to have a discussion about her project after she is done with everything else.” Severus said, grabbing his cloak and pulling it over his shoulders, the final touch on the formidable Potions Master.

She caught his hand as he moved to the fireplace. “Severus. Thank you.”

His brow knit together, and he inclined his head. “Whatever for.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she enveloped him in her embrace. “For going to do what you are. Even if it is for your peace of mind, I know you are doing it for me too.”

His hand caught her chin, black eyes holding as much meaning as his words. “For _ us _ , silly woman.”

Her heart swelled with emotion, and she lifted up, catching his face and kissing him again. He relented into it for a moment, before his hands cupped hers, pulling away. “You are going to make me late.”

“Go before I decide to snog you into the next week.” She teased, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He gazed along her body, from brow to toe and then to her lips, a smirk cresting the left side of his face. “I shall expect you to do so when I get home.”

“Maybe.” was her coy response.

Severus left her side now, getting into the floo. 

She waved him off. “Bye, love.”

It might have been the firelight playing tricks on her, but she was almost sure that he winked at her as the green flames consumed him.

  
  


She had several hours before her appointment, so she returned to the kitchen, drinking her coffee before washing both of their cups. 

Once that was done, Hermione went upstairs to take a shower. 

There was still a bit of homework that she needed to do before she went to her therapy session. She’d been putting it off, but having the house to herself was ample enough reason for her to try it. The attempt alone was the assignment; any success was extra credit. Drying off, Hermione wrapped her towel around her form.

Her heart was racing. Ensuring the curtain was drawn tight, Hermione walked to the mirror that she had covered with a drape. A shaky breath ran through her. She slammed her eyes shut and prepared herself for what she needed to do. With a sweep of her hand, its cover was lifted, lying over the bed.

Her lips formed an O as she exhaled all the breath in her lungs.

When she was calm enough, she opened her eyes, looking at herself.

Her hair was limp at her shoulders, weighed down from the water still dripping from her hair. Brown eyes looked like those of a deer, caught in the lamplight of a car. Her hands gripped her towel like it was a shield.

There was an index card tucked into the frame of the mirror. It wasn’t in Hermione's handwriting. Leliana Shade had written down things that she was supposed to say to herself as she did this. Lifting one hand to the card, she pulled it down, looking at the affirmations.

“I can do this,” Hermione told herself, using the card as a focus. Drawing on the strength that she knew she had deep within herself, she withdrew her towel. Her hands were shaking, but she wasn’t looking in the mirror; she was looking at the words.

_...Repeat each of these to yourself three times every time you look in the mirror. Say them aloud. Talk about yourself as you would talk about a friend who you cared deeply about… _

The instructions were pretty straightforward and easy, but she still didn’t know if she could do it.

Swallowing back, Hermione looked at the mirror, seeing herself naked for the first time in years. Stretch marks marred her stomach and breasts like the jagged stripes of a tiger. A scar ran down between her breasts, a remnant of the war she fought. Smaller, fainter spots littered her skin. ‘Mudblood’ stood out as an angry red still, the glamour she wore every day gone. Uneven vampire bites on her neck reminded her of her most recent battle. Hermione’s body looked like a history of the war on pale flesh.

Her heart was like thunder rumbling in her ears.

“I am learning to love my body.” Hermione’s voice was small and meek as she read the words from the card.

“My body has overcome many physical feats and shows it’s beauty in its imperfections.” Her lip trembled, tears collecting at her waterline.

A quiet sob left her as she watched how afraid she was in the mirror. She didn’t want to be this fearful of herself anymore. She continued, reading the next affirmation. “I am grateful for my body. I want to treat it with love and respect.”

She was desperate to believe the words as she spoke them. “I am perfect, whole, and complete, just the way I am.”

By the time she reached the last affirmation, her hands were shaking.  “I believe in my ability to truly love myself for who I am.”

  
  


Hermione stopped there, closing her eyes. Trying to will the panic that was threatening to take hold of her down.

“I am safe. There is nothing to be afraid of.” Hermione tried to coax herself as the water on her skin dried away in the warmth of the room. She repeated it as if those words were a spell that she was casting. Nearly a dozen times later, the trembling had stopped.

Her eyes opened again, taking in her form. She shook her arms out, trying to get the nerves in her hands to stop making it feel like she was covered in pins and needles. The movement made her body jiggle. That motion reminded her that she was, in fact, doing better than she had been. She was healthier. When she was in the depth of her despair, she knew that her ribs were clearly visible and that her hips bones too. Now, she had muscle; she had more to her than bones.

“I am so much farther than I was when I began.” It was a mantra that she borrowed from one of her books. It was the truth, and even as her chest started to tighten again, Hermione knew that she was getting better. Even now, she wasn’t screeching and running to hide. A month ago, she would not have been able to stand naked before a mirror.

Hermione looked at the card in her hands and, this time tried talking to herself as if she was trying to convince herself of something. Trying to weave conviction over the jerky stops of her words.

By the time she was done this round, her lungs burned from the pressure. Her fingers were shaking, but not as bad as they had been in the beginning.

_ One more time... I can do this one more time… _

  
  


Sniffing back the tears she was refusing to cry, she tried something else. She thought about Severus and how he looked at her when he was proud of her when something made him smile. She tried to imagine that instead of saying it to herself, she said it to him. That it was a truth that she believed in and was sharing it with him.

It was easier this time; she could look at herself long and not have to use the card as a shield for her eyes. It didn’t mean that she still wasn’t worked up. Her knees were knocking with the panic.

But that wasn’t important, not really. Even as Hermione was trembling, even as she pulled the towel around her again securely, she knew something she hadn’t know before. That she could do it. This whole week Hermione had been afraid of trying to look at herself. Afraid that Severus would walk in a catch her, or that she would have an anxiety attack and not be able to explain to him why she was naked in front of the mirror crying.

But that hadn’t happened. Instead, Hermione had made it all the way through. Even though it was hard. Accomplishment settled between her ribs as she sat on the bed, working on calming herself down. Looking at the time with her wand, she had nearly an hour before she had to leave.

_ I need to reward myself... _ She thought, knowing that it would encourage her to be able to do this in the future. Running her fingers through her hair, she decided that she had time to go down to the garden and cut some of the herbs for cooking. If she dried some of it out now, it would be great for dinner. And she was going to reward herself with something tasty for supper. 

It would be a reward for both her and Severus.

Getting up, Hermione covered the mirror and got ready for the day. The more she thought about working in the garden, the more the nerves in her stomach settled. The excitement of doing something she enjoyed was starting to push back against the lingering emotions of her homework.

By the time she went downstairs, even the tension headache had started to fade away.

  
  


* * *

Her appointment with Dr. Shade and Dr. Dixon started intensely. Hermione had at first discussed the tape of her parents with Dr. Shade. It was discussed how close she was with her parents and how she was still grieving them. It made her start talking about the conversation that she and Severus had in the dark about parenthood, which then dove into the fact that Severus was currently off being tested for virility. 

Hermione had not been prepared to talk about her future plans with Severus during that appointment, but since it was so prevalent on her mind, Dr. Shade thought it was best. She found herself sitting with both of them, discussing the foundations of their relationship and how it compared to her ex-husband.

It brought her to some realizations she’d not had. 

With Ron, she’d been the one to do all the emotional labor. She was the one who tried and tried to make everything work, tried to care for him and fix him, even as he hurt her.

As she explained how she and Severus worked, Leliana informed her that she’d done a 180. Severus was the one doing the emotional labor now.

Leliana sat cross-legged in her armchair, looking from the window to Hermione. They had settled into the chairs overlooking the garden this time, instead of the center of the room. 

“When was the last time you asked him if he was feeling okay? Or talked about he felt?”

“He doesn’t talk about his feelings often, he’s pretty private.” Hermione offered, feeling ashamed that she couldn’t think of the last time she asked him how he felt.

It was Dr. Dixon who spoke now, sitting with his elbows on his knees, his hand in his chin. “But do you give him the option, as you say he gives you? Before you even went to your visit with family, he told you that he’d be there to talk. Have you ever told him that you were there to talk if he needed it?”

“I- I don’t think I have. Oh, Circe, have I turned into Ron?” The thought horrified her if she was being selfish and not carrying her weight.

Dr. Shade gave her a smile and shook her head. “Not from what I see. All that needs to happen is some balancing. Like with sexual activities, you were letting him put in the effort and do the work. Because you were afraid that he would reject your advances, or that you would do it wrong. It’s no different here, Hermione.”

That had been the issue before, at least, a significant part of it. It got Hermione's mind pouring over the situation as the two professionals were posing it to her. Logically it made sense to her. “So you are saying that I am afraid of him shutting me out, so I don’t give him the chance to even open up.”

The dark-haired woman started taking notes, filling out the notecard that would have Hermione’s homework for the week on it. “Exactly. So, this week, I want you to try talking to him about him. How he is feeling. Now, I know that Severus is a prickly pear when it comes to talking about himself. But you see a side of him that no one else in the world does. Who is to say that he won’t open up to you.”

“I can do that, or at least I can try. How would you suggest I bring that up?” She asked, wondering when exactly she should try to offer herself up as his counsel. The fact that she hadn’t thought of this before was bothering her.

Leliana Shade tapped her pen on her clipboard, and Hermione watched as she looked up, her eyes flickering over as if she were reading something. “You could try it in different ways. Uh  _ ‘You seem tense, is everything okay?’ _ or  _ ‘I wanted to know how you feel about this’ _ or even _ ‘is there anything you want to talk about with me?’ _ . I suspect that he would appreciate more open-ended questions rather than trying to corner him into talking about his feelings.”

“Would you suggest that I tell him that if he wants to talk, I’m there for him?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, his hands moving as he spoke.“Yes. Remember, Severus is a person with feelings. As much as he tries to act like he doesn’t, that man is walking insecurity. No one buttons themself into armor like that if they aren’t afraid to show the world who they are.”

Hermione was amused at the fact that her therapist referred to Severus’s teaching robes as armor. It wasn’t far from the truth; she knew that he used it to keep people back, to be as foreboding as possible, and draw a line between himself and anyone else.

Hermione looked at Dr. Shade, smirking. “He wore his ‘armor’ today to see our mutual acquaintance.”

The doctor did not look surprised at all. “I expected that. He may even need to speak to you about how he feels when he gets back. Men, traditionally, don’t like the idea that there could be something wrong with them sexually.”

“He is the one who brought it up and made the appointment and everything.” Even now, she was still amazed by it, knowing he was likely still with Healer Shade being tested, she could hardly believe it.

“Which tells me that you are so important to him that he is willing to put himself through it.” Dr. Dixon said, steepling his fingers. “As a man, I can tell you, it would be an extraordinary woman to have me so seriously think about children.”

“Really?” Hermione said, something in her chest melting at the statements.

“Absolutely.” Spencer Dixon said, leaning back in the chair. “It means that he is there for the long haul. I don’t see Snape as the kind of man who would have a child and then not be there for it or the mother.”

The conversation continued for a few more moments down that vein before Leliana interrupted by clearing her throat. “I have another task for you. I want you to look at your relationship with Severus with an outside perspective. Think about places where it isn’t balanced, and when you come back next week, I want you to tell me what you observed.”

“I can do that.” Hermione agreed, looking at her journal that was on the coffee table between them.

Her sex therapist sighed, shaking his head, “I wish he would come to one of your sessions with you. It would be good for you both to get a perspective of how the other feels about the relationship.”

Hermione shrugged, “I can ask him, he probably won’t want to.”

“Do tell him that he is welcome to any of your sessions.” Dr. Shade offered, writing more on the index card.

It was easy for her to agree to that. “I will.”

They then delved into her other homework, where she was to work on becoming more comfortable with her own body. You would have thought that she’d won an award with how pleased that Dr. Dixon was that she’d been able to go through the mantras three times in one go. His pride in her made her feel even more accomplished than she had felt that morning. Leliana had told her that her job was to try to do that at least twice a week for the next two weeks. If she could do it more, it would be fine, but her job was to do it at least twice.

“I want you to read these books, and if you can, get Severus to read this one. Your relationship is growing with your identity, which I am pleased to say with and not as. You are still very much Hermione Granger and not just Severus’s girlfriend. We want to make sure it stays that way. But you also want to cultivate your relationship into something healthy for you both.” She was handed a few books, one of which was about the five languages of love. 

Dr. Dixon smiled at her as she looked over the tomes. “You’ve been doing well so far, but if you want to make sure you guys are both speaking each other’s language, you might want to know what your own is. I have a suspicion as to what yours are, but I’d like you to discover that for yourself.”

The timer chimed for the end of their session, and Hermione got up, putting her items into her bag.

Just before Dr. Shade handed her the index card, it was grabbed by Dr. Dixon, who began to scribble as he spoke to her. “I have one more assignment for you; I am just going to write it here. I want you to try this as soon as you have a chance and try it as many times as possible during the next week. Any observations you have about it, I want you to write them down.”

Standing there, she waited for him to finish. Taking the card, held it in her hand as she shook their hands with the other. “I will. Thank you, both of you. Same time next week.”

“Good luck, Miss Granger.”

Once she confirmed her next appointment, she started on her walk home. Glancing over the card, she stopped when she got to the handwriting of Dr. Dixon. Her throat when dry as she read it. Reading it several times, Hermione tucked it into her pocket, her face pink as she made her way home. 

Severus wasn’t home when she got there. It didn’t really surprise her, as he said that he would likely be out for a while. She placed her new books by her chair and then went upstairs. Hermione thought about her assignments, especially the one that she’d been given by her sex therapist. Biting her lips, she thought it over.

It didn’t make her stomach bubble as she thought it would. It had been eons since she remembered ever making an attempt, and it hadn’t been anything spectacular. The only issue is she had no idea how long until Severus got home.

Ideas started to creep into her mind, and it did something entirely different to her stomach. 

Hermione went into the bathroom, knowing that part of her rewarding herself needed to be something for herself. While Leliana had thought the dinner was a great idea, she had also suggested that Hermione do something she hadn’t done in a long time. Take a long hot bath.

She hadn’t taken a bath in years. It was one of the guilty pleasures that she missed, but her body issues made it very hard to enjoy. Since she’d managed to get naked for herself today, she decided that she could do it again in the spirit of treating herself. Flicking the taps on, Hermione moved the curtain out of the way.

A tap of her wand and the water was perfect. She looked through her toiletries, finding an old bubble bath that she’d been given by Luna two Christmases ago. It was midnight orchids, and while it wasn’t her favorite kind of scent, it was relaxing enough. She poured it into the water, watching as iridescent bubbles started to fill the water.

Waiting until it was high enough, Hermione gathered clothes and even a candle. If she was going to give herself a spa-like moment, she was going to go all the way. She set the room up and then stripped.

Stepping into the water that was just over her threshold of hot, she felt her body instantly start to relax. The tub was large, and she quickly sank into the water, the bubbles coming to her shoulders. Flicking her wand, the light was turned off, the candle illuminating the room with soft flicking light.

She leaned her head back against the cast iron, letting the warmth soak into her body, down to her bones. Eyes closed, she let her mind drift toward the homework. 

Dr. Dixon had instructed her to try to fantasize and see if she could successfully pleasure herself. Even when she was not with Ron, Hermione had never really seen much of a point in masturbation. It never seemed to get her anywhere. But she could fantasize; her imagination had no bounds.

Exhaling, she let her mind wander, letting the stirring in her gut and lower guide her. Thinking about sex had been much more comfortable since it had been a part of her homework in previous weeks. Then she was supposed to think about it and pose it to herself that she was safe and normal for having arousal feelings. 

  
  
  


_ An image of Severus, dressed as he had been before they went to Lucy’s house came into her mind. She remembered how she wanted to open that black button-up with her teeth. It had been a very out of the blue thought at the time, but Hermione let herself focus on it. In her mind, she was in control. _

_ Closing the library to him, she started with a kiss. Hermione found that she preferred to start kissing to touching first. Something about it always made her gut burn for more. His hands were in her hair, and she was untucking the fabric from his denim. A growl escaped him like the one he often made when he wanted more.  _

_ Her lips slid from his, finding that spot on his neck, just above the thickest part of the scaring that made him gasp. His fingers dug into her hand, and the other wrapped around her, drawing her into him. _

Hermione shifted in the water, feeling her body starting to react to the scene in her mind’s eye. She bit her lip before letting out a shaky breath.

_ Tongue ran over his adam's apple before she started on the top button. While she had never actually unbuttoned anything with her mouth, it was her fantasy, so it happened with ease. Biting the edge of the shirt, she opened it, looking up at him. Those black eyes were full of desire and want. _

A sensation of pleasure ran through her making her shiver in hot water.

_ Button by button, she opened his shirt, their eyes rarely breaking contact. Her tongue would flick out, running over his skin. When the shirt was finally open, she put her hands under its shoulder, pushing the fabric to the floor. Severus let her go, letting it fall away from him.  _

_ Taking his hand, she led him to his chair in the library. Hermione had a fondness for that chair; it played into a few of her daydreams. He sat down, and she climbed onto his lap. His hands slunk under her shirt, fingers hot against her bare skin. Their lips met again, this time an inferno of lust. _

A groan escaped her lips. Taking a chance, she let her hands start to run over her body under the water, imaging that it was Severus touching her, not herself.

_ His mouth found her neck, sucking on the spot just below her ear. His hands grabbed her ass, pulling her down into him, and she could feel his erection through the pants. Heat washed through her, and she growled now, her fingers pressing into his shoulders. She wanted him, wanted to feel him, be with him. One hand of his hands slipped between them, touching her intimately. _

Her whole body went flush as she mimicked the gesture with her own hand.

_ Somehow in the fantasy, clothing was no longer an issue, and they were finally as they should have always been, skin to skin. Hermione's name was on his lips, praising her as his fingers began to explore her. Her eyes rolled back in her head as his fingers found the most sensitive places of her. _

Her breathing was coming quickly now, the water splashing with her movements. Hermione had never felt this excited under her own hand before. Her nipples were hard under the water, and she wanted nothing more than for her fantasy to be a reality at that moment.

_ Hermione felt him shift, and he was there, pressing against her. Dark heated eyes looked at her for a sign, and she pressed her lips to his as Severus rose his hips, filling her. Her hips jerked; Hermione was more than ready for him. Since it was her fantasy, Severus knew exactly what she wanted, rocking up into her until she was panting her name. _

Everything in her felt like it was focused on her fingers, and Hermione had rolled her shoulders forward, gasping for air. Before her fantasy self could even finish, she found herself crying out his name louder than she’d anticipated, her head pressed back against the tub as her legs tensed and her body fluttered around her fingers.

  
  
  


She did not get to settle into those pleasant aftershocks for long. There was a noise in the house, the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Severus’s voice called out for her worry in his voice. “Hermione?”

Still panting, Hermione tried to find her voice. “I’m in here, in the bath.”

“I heard you yell, are you alright in there.” His voice was right outside the door. 

She didn’t know the answer to that question, as her body was still quaking in aftershocks of her very first self-induced orgasm.

Part of her wanted to tell him that she was fine and to not worry. But she also wanted him to come into this bathroom and ravish her as his fantasy self just had. 

The more lascivious side, still in having control of the reins, won. Standing from the bath, she grabbed her towel, pulling it around her.

“Come in here, please.” She gasped, tapping the taps so that the water would start to drain.

“You sure,” Severus asked, hesitantly.

She was still breathless as she urged him into the room. “Absolutely.”

The bathroom door opened, and Severus peered into the room, his eyes scanning for signs of danger. She walked toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Dark eyes scanned her suspiciously.“Hermione? Are you hurt?” 

“I’m not hurt.” Grinning, she lifted up on her toes, kissing him passionately. 

He seemed shocked at first, but Severus wrapped his arms around her towel-clad body, pulling her close. His lips did not surrender to hers; no, they blended their own level of passion into the dance.

When it became impossible to continue without air, he hummed, smiling at her. “I suppose you really did plan to snog me into next week.”

Gazing into his eyes, she tried to translate her want to him as she grabbed the front of his frock coat. There was a glaze of aroused desperation in her voice. “Severus, I want you right now.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes were now focused on hers, a million questions in his expression.

Nodding, she opened herself to him. “I have never been more sure in my life.”

Something in his expression changed, a wild desire filled his eyes, and the next thing she knew, he was leading her by the hand to the bedroom.


	70. Skin to Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

St. Mungo’s was never empty.

The facility's nature demanded that there were always healers on duty, night shift, day shift. Patients needed care, and that meant that caregivers never were far. But it was still quieter than the usual bustle of the daytime hours.

Severus strode into the building, heading to Shade’s floor. It wasn’t precisely uncommon that he would come to discuss her project with her, so he determined that if Severus acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, it would not even be noticed that he was there. Severus did not want to be seen. He had never considered himself a nervous person, but the sweat gathered at his nape, and the way his left hand seemed to tingle was doing well to dispute that. He’d not been able to do more than drink one cup of coffee.

He was calmer than when he just was woken up. Hermione’s ministrations had cut the edge off his tension, but only somewhat. The past few days had been tenser for him than he expected. Denying himself pleasure in previous years had been easy; his mind was always occupied with something else. However, with the woman of his desire there in the same space as him, it was a test of his restraint. Severus knew that Artimis had a good reason for the request, but that didn’t make him the least bit frustrated with her.

He was spotted the woman in question. Her back was to him, but the long black hair braid down over lime green robes, and the particular way she stood made it impossible for that to be anyone other than Artimis Shade. She looked at a wall of charts, her wand tapping individual ones as she looked them over.

He cleared his throat.

Healer Shade didn’t even startle or turn. “Just a moment, Severus, I have to ensure that my morning patients files are updated.”

“Very well,” Severus said, crossing his arms. He swept his vision over the waiting room, seeing that aside from the receptionist, Shade, and himself, it was completely empty. 

_ Good, no gossip-mongering to deflate… _ Severus thought.

“There we are,” Artimis said, turning her head and gesturing him to follow with her hand. “Rosemarie, Professor Snape, and I will be in a research meeting for most of the morning. Unless someone goes into labor and there is no other healer capable of delivering a child on hand, I do not wish to be interrupted. Even the Minister of Magic will need to wait, are we clear?”

The young woman looked at him, and Severus remembered her face, and her house came to him, Hufflepuff. Nodding, she looked back at her boss. “Yes, Healer Shade, I will only interrupt you in the direst of emergencies.”

The grace and power of Artimis were never more apparent than within these walls. With a wordless nod, she departed from the young lady and took off down the hall. 

Severus followed her into her domain, past closed doors, and around healer stations. Eyes hard set, anyone who crossed their paths seemed to make themselves scarce. It did make him more comfortable, being able to scare the wits out of people who saw the horrific for a living.

At the end of a hall, Artimis opened a door and let him in. Shutting the door behind her, he watched her flick privacy wards up, ensuring that eavesdroppers would not be an issue.

“I do hope you did not have to get up too early.” Artimis offered, moving to pick up a chart she from the counter.

“I did not.” Severus moved to stand in the center of the room, unsure of his next moves. “Thank you for making special accommodations for seeing me.”

Olive eyes looked at him, and Healer Shade smiled, waving her hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it, I simply took on a double shift and did night so that I would be here when there were fewer speculators.”

“You’ve not slept?” Severus said, looking her over. The woman did not express fatigue on her features that he expected from someone working all evening. Then again, she worked in a hospital and likely had access to potions to maintain her awareness and energy levels.

“No, it is not uncommon for me to do this, especially if I am nose deep in data.” She chuckled, looking down at the chart and making notes, occasionally looking up at him.

Severus said nothing, watching as the mediwitch stood there writing. When she finally looked up at him, she smiled at him, letting out a soft huff. She took a chair, gesturing for him to sit on the examination bed.

“So, this is a different situation, isn’t it.” Shade hummed.

“It is. As I said, I find myself in need of your expertise.” Severus detected a hint of apprehension in her voice. 

He had considered that this would be unusual for her and perhaps awkward, but there was no one else he trusted to this extent to be allowed such invasions of his personal life. He knew firsthand that she was the top expert in the field, and he was using his connections to get her expert opinion. It was only the second time that he’d ever asked her for any help concerning her position, and considering the length of their friendship, that was a good track record for two Slytherins.

Nodding, she crossed her legs, the chart sitting atop her knee.“I shall approach this conversation as a professional.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” He said, feeling out of place on the bed but doing his best to not expose the nervous tingle running through him.

She tapped her quill against the chart, looking him over.

Severus could feel that she had many questions; her eyes looked over him like a puzzle to be solved, a riddle yet without an answer. “What makes you in need of my expertise?”

Inhaling through his nose, he responded. “I desire to know if, after Nagini’s poison, I can reproduce?”

“I assume that was never tested during your recovery?” Her eyebrow quirked at him, her quill quickly moving to scribe something.

He nearly laughed. No one in their right mind would have assessed this at the time. “Correct assumption, as most considered that I was going to Azkaban.”

Healer Shade’s eyes narrowed for a moment; he could sense the affront at such a notion in her very body language. Her lips were flat as she responded. “How I am pleased that was not the case.”

Severus knew for a fact that had he been sentenced that she would have started throwing her weight around to try to get him freed. Not only had she told him as much, but she’d even gone to her father and mother. She was not on speaking terms with the latter for their support if that became the case. Severus had never been incredibly close to Mortimer Shade; the older man was a Ravenclaw with far too much power and just enough sense to not get tangled in with the losing side of any battle. Leticia Shade nee Entingo was a veritable force to be reckoned with. Hailing from Durmstrang, she was quick with her wit but quicker with her wand. Her descendants came from the Black Forest witches, and it was said that at the peak of her anger, she exuded magic that was both dark and powerful. 

He was rather grateful that those two did not have to tear into the Ministry for his freedom. Hermione had successfully made the transition for him as peaceful as possible, bearing everything that happened in mind. “As am I, I had no desire to rot there.”

The way her face settled told him that she was pulling another mask into place, and he watched as the Healer, the professional, took the place of his friend. Her shoulders were back, posture perfect, and her face nonjudgemental. “I am going to have to ask you a lot of questions, and I need you to be honest with me. I am not here to judge or to speculate. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Yes. I will answer to the best of my ability.” Severus agreed, taking a deep mind-clearing breath.

“That is all I can ask for.” A humored sound left her. “First, I want to ask about any injuries you may have sustained. I already know about the venom, which I have an analysis of, but what other things have you suffered, especially in the groin area.”

There was a long list of injuries that he’d sustained over his lifetime. “I was in a war Artimis, you very well know this.”

“I do, but I do not know the extent of your injuries, and your health file is rather thin, considering.” She clicked her teeth at him, obviously not letting him get off with vague answers to her questions.

He sighed, looking at his hands. The file was thin because it was not safe for him to be treated by anyone at the time. “I treated myself for most injuries. I have suffered the Cruciatus Curse a handful of times. I’ve been poisoned no less than a dozen times, perhaps three times that. And I have been struck in the groin quite a few times in my life.”

“Did you end up urinating blood after any of those events?” Healer Shade asked, her eyes calm and inquisitive. 

It was an interesting question, one he’d never been asked before. Thinking back on it, it had been an aftereffect of some of his injuries. “A few times.”

“I see. Anything else you can think of.” Her quill was scratching along the parchment, her face a mingle of concentration and calculation as she wrote.

Clearing his throat, he divulged a detail to her that no one else had really been privy to. It hadn’t been anyone’s business. “After my recovery from the snake’s venom, I did not find that I had much of a sexual drive for anything. It has only been in the last 7 months or so that I have felt more active, shall we say.”

“I see, good to know,” Artimis said, her lips pursing in thought. “Which leads to the next set of questions. Before your near-death experience, how often did you find yourself physically aroused, for example, how many times a week.”

Severus found it hard to not feel a bit abashed at the conversation. Even with the understanding that this was a healing conversation and essential, it was a little uneasy talking to her about it. “Aside from mornings, once or twice a week.”

“And that was average.” She hummed, checking things off her list.

A snort left him, his eyebrow rising at her. Did she really think he had time to chase after carnal pleasures balanced on a razor between two masters? “You will find that having death around every corner tends to limit one’s physical desire for pleasure.”

“You’d be surprised how many people that affects the  _ opposite _ way.” Her lips twisted with just a hint of wickedness. Below the Healer mask, he could see his companion trying to bit back her tongue on what she knew about the world during the war. She’d been alive for it, tho not involved anywhere as intensely as him.

He humphed, shaking his head. Shamus and Artimis had once indulged him in too much information over drinks that their experience during the war was something of a long series of stolen trysts and trying to stay alive while fighting the good fight. “I am sure I know a few like that.”

“You just might.” She chuckled, shaking her head. Again, the mask took place. “So, have you ever had a child before? Or has there been a pregnancy that you were responsible for that did not go to term?”

“No.” He said firmly, all the notions of humor gone. The liability of a child or a pregnant witch was not something that he desired to balance with his other duties. When he did indulge, he was stringently careful.

Setting the chart on the counter, Healer Shade clasped her hands, looking up at him with an apprehensive gaze. “Alright. Now, I am going to get personal. Why are you looking into this now? Do you have issues or concerns?”

The insinuation was that she was trying to find out if he was not currently able to perform. He thanked her for her tact internally and started with the explanation of what had brought them there. “As you know, I am seeing Miss Granger. And it came into conversation how important being a mother is to her. I am aware that she is your client, and I am nearly certain she is one of your subjects, though I am keeping my distance on my speculation.”

Her eyebrows shot up for a moment, telling him more truth than denial. In that motion, she confirmed that Hermione was a subject and that he had not been wrong in his ideas about which patient group she was a part of.

Her black eyebrows then resumed their place calmly above her olive-green eyes.“For this consideration, I thank you.”

There was a pause, and he knew that she was waiting for him to explain.

“While we are not anywhere near trying to conceive a child, it occurred to me that I did not even know if I was able to. You are aware of my detestation of not having answers.” Severus tried to keep it as simple as possible. He was already decidedly uncomfortable even talking about it. Part of the reason he had come to Shade in the first place was that they had a working friendship, and it would be easier for him to be open with her than some insipid over nosy Healer who could easily be bought. As far as Severus knew, no one had developed a high enough price for Artimis’s pride in her work.

She nodded thoughtfully, her hand coming to her chin as she drew her conclusion.“I am aware that you are very private. This explains why you sought me out to answer this for you in the pursuit of the knowledge.”

“Yes, and so that, should the time come where Hermione decides that she wants to pursue motherhood, I will know what role I can play in that if she will have me.” Severus swallowed as his voice was suddenly quieter than he’d expected. It was the first time he’d said to anyone other than Hermione any of this.

The woman before him broke into a bright smile that took over her own face. “As a professional, I commend your forethought. As your friend, I am impressed and really happy for you both.”

“I am certain.” Warmth crept over his face, and he ran his hand down his visage, trying to conceal it. He wasn’t used to such praise from her.

Her smile did not falter, and she turned her head at him, something like pride and affection in her eyes. “I’m glad you’ve needed someone in your life for a while.”

Clearing his throat, he fixed her with a stern expression. “I think I would rather the professional back at this time.”

Artimis gave him a playful sigh and then grabbed her chart back up, slipping back into the demeanor of Healer. 

Severus briefly wondered if that was how he looked when he went from Professor to Severus. That train of thought crashed and burned at the next question, however.

“Very well. So, next question, when was the last time you ejaculated.” Healer Shade asked with absolute neutrality.

Tsking at himself, he looked at the wall above her shoulder, not able to look her in the face. “Thursday morning.”

“Perfect.” She chimed, making a note.

Severus did not think that was perfect at all, but he wasn’t going to judge without the knowledge of why he needed to abstain from the act. He crossed his arms. However, it was not as impressive since his feet were not on the floor, but almost two feet above them.

Artimis stood, going to her counter space and looking over another parchment. She did not look at him as she spoke. “I will need to conduct a physical exam Severus.”

“I am aware.” Even if he was not pleased about the concept, he knew it was needed, which gave him the push to allow it.

Healer Shade asked, her hand moving to copy something from one form to another. “Should I leave you to undress?”

While the offer was appreciated, he would rather not have to go through waiting for half-naked in a room for him to return. It would be his luck that the wrong individual would enter, and it wasn’t a risk he wanted to take. “Hardly, I cannot imagine I have anything you’ve not seen.”

“No, you don’t. I will still turn my back to give you a semblance of privacy.” She chuckled at him.

He began to unbutton his trousers by his ankles, removing his shoes. It occurred to him that he did not know how much clothing he needed to remove. “Completely undressed?”

“You may leave your shirt sleeves if you do not wish to wear a gown. But the coat, trousers and undergarments need to go.” She flicked her hand at him, still not looking as she explained. 

There was a grey gown on the back of the bed, and he decided that he was absolutely not wearing that. “Small mercies.”

“Let me know when you are ready. Sit on the exam bed when you are.” The Healer said, counting under her breath over her fingertips.

He began to undo the buttons on his frockcoat that came with years of practice. His chest was tight as he did, his gut flipping with nerves. Severus had not anticipated how much he would be unnerved by this situation.

“Severus?” Her voice cut through his thoughts.“How long has it been since you’ve been inoculated for dragon pox?”

He had to think about it, placing the coat on the chair by the examination bed. “Ah, ten years ago or so.”

“Alright.” She hummed, making some notations. “And when was the last time someone did a curse check on you?”

“February.” He said, undoing his belt and removing his trousers. It had been done during Hermione’s divorce trial after it was revealed that he was there.

She nodded. “Good.”

He removed the last of his requested clothing, feeling more naked with just his shirtsleeves than he had in a long time. Fortunately, they were long enough to give him some manner of implied modesty.

He took a seat on the bed, sighing. “I am ready, Healer Shade.”

A few more moments before she turned, she was speaking to herself as she crossreferenced something between two sheets. Severus wanted to rush her along, but at the same time, was content with her back turned to him. It was not every day that he got undressed for his friend, also his other friend's wife.

She pulled on some gloves and turned to him with a smile. “Okay, so please tell me if anything I do makes you uncomfortable. I blend magic with muggle techniques, so this is likely to be unlike any exam you have had.”

He crossed his arms, fixing her with a muted glare. “Should I start complaining about it now?”

“You are aware of what I mean, Severus.” She rolled her eyes, moving into his space. Her hands moved to his face, feeling along the bottom of his jaw before she began to press his Adam's apple with two fingers firmly. “Does this hurt?”

He could feel the motion, and it made him swallow on reflex. “No.”

Healer Shade flicked her wand out of her sleeve, tapping his shoulders with a wordless spell. Her hand pressed into his sternum, her eyes closing for a moment. 

Severus could feel the magic washing over him, and he wasn’t aware of the spell, but he never specialized in Mediwitchery, and there was a whole school of magic attached to it.

“Lungs and heart look good. You don’t have any trouble with either, do you?” She asked him, waving her wand and withdrawing her hand from his shirt covered chest.

He shook his head at her. As far as he knew, he’d been lucky on that front. Many ended up with heart issues after being under certain curses. “No.”

Artimis pressed her hands into his stomach and then looked at him calmly. “I need you to lie back.”

Severus leaned back and pursed his lips, looking at the ceiling. His hand pressed flat into the bed, and he counted in his head.

Her hands pressed into his lower abdomen, across his pelvis. It was firm and clinical. “No signs of abnormalities or cysts.”

He began to start recounting the quantities of ingredients in his lab at home, anything to keep his mind off the fact that his former student, friend, and colleague was undoubtedly looking at his manhood at this moment. It was not that he was ashamed of his body as much as he felt very vulnerable in this position.

Her throat cleared. “I have a warming charm on my hands, please tell me if they are too cold.”

It was the only warning he got before he felt her start to touch him. He was grateful for the warm hands, but that was about it. Eyes closed, he prayed his body did not do something inappropriate. The sensation was definitely different, as her touch was firm and clinical, he could tell that she was trying to touch him the least as possible. It didn’t make it any more comfortable.

Her hand gripped his balls and squeezed firmly. “Does that hurt?”

It wasn’t painful, but it was not pleasant either. Severus hissed through his teeth at her, trying to not snap at her in his growing discomfort. “No.”

“Good.” Artimis Shade said and felt her hands withdraw. Part of him was hopeful that it was over, but he knew better than that. 

She confirmed his thoughts as she tapped his knee. “Please stand up.”

Severus sighed and, rather gracelessly, got to his feet. 

She smiled at him and tilted her head away from him, her hand once again moving to his testicles. “I need you to take in a deep breath and cough.”

It took him off-guard for a moment. Exhaling deeply, he then did as he was asked. Drawing in a deep gasp, he then turned the other way from her and forced a cough. He felt her hands shift as he did. “Does that hurt.”

“It is not comfortable, but it does not hurt.” He offered her, taking in a second deep breath.

“Good.” She said, he hand withdrawing from him. Bowing her head slightly, she gestured behind him. “Back on the bed.”

He had to applaud her professionalism. In her eyes, he could see that she was not absolutely comfortable, but that was only because he had years of reading people. To an ordinary wizard, she was the pinnacle of calm and judgemental.

Wordlessly, she guided him back to lying down. Her wand was in her wand hand, and she began to speak. “This will be incredibly uncomfortable. I ask your forgiveness. I am going to place my hand here on your abdomen, as you may jump.” Her hand pressed firm across his pelvis as she lifted her wand.

“Dare I ask what you are about to do,” Severus said, eyes flicking between her face and the wand in her hand.

Shade nodded. “Collecting a semen sample, don’t worry, it is a spell.”

“Very well.” His tongue tucked into his cheek as he pressed his head back into the pillow. He wasn’t sure what to expect, and her statement about discomfort did not please him at all.

“ _ Stirpem trahere _ .” It was like a hum.

Suddenly without the blindness of endorphins or lust, Severus felt his body respond. He pinched his eyes closed as he felt every step of his arousal on a purely physiological level. He had not been aware that pleasure blinded him to some of the sensations, but he was now.

“You did not understate the discomfort.” He ground out.

Her voice was distracted. “Trust me, the traditional manner is more uncomfortable for us both.”

The sensation of completion was nowhere near as enjoyable as this. Grateful when Severus felt the magic draw back from him, he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath until he sucked in a breath of air. 

Her hand left him, and he felt her step away from him. “Alright, you may dress while I take my notes.”

When he sat up, her back was to him, a beaker of what he only assumed was his semen next to her being put under different spells. He lifted from the bed, retrieving his clothing. Pulling his pants and trousers up, he felt less exposed. Buttoning himself into his wardrobe restored some of his sense of control over the situation.

“Observations.” He queried, curious as to what she’d determined so far.

Her quill was still moving furiously while she flicked her wand toward the glass beaker, colored lights leaving the tip, and she would make notes. “You are anatomically correct, you have some scarring but nothing that I feel should be concerning. I need to do an analysis, and then I should have more answers.”

“A relief to know I am normal in some regard.” He drawled. 

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. “It is a common fear to think you may not be. I assure you, you are as you should be.”

“Your humor is not convincing.” Severus sneered, even though her back was to him.

The very way she was standing told him that she was far too amused with herself. “My humor is based on the great Severus Snape being self-conscious.”

Artimis Shade had been a friend over two decades, so he found a bit interesting that she’d not suspected this, knowing his private nature. “You of all people should not be surprised.”

She tapped her wand again, a second quill standing and seemingly mimicking her writing on one form to another. “I am not, but I am still amused. You were an excellent patient. Many men are either crude or belligerent. You were neither.”

He finished buttoning his coat and rose an eyebrow in disbelief. There was no way in any hells that he would be inclined to try to be raucous during an exam like that. “Patients are crude with you while you examine them.”

“Insecurity makes fools of many.” She shrugged as she continued to work.

“Agreed.”

She flicked her wand back toward him, pulling the chair that his clothing had been on toward the chair that she’d been occupied. “Sit, in the chair, if you like, give me a few more minutes, and we can talk about my findings.”

It did not take her very long to be sitting in front of him again. His chart in her hand, she offered him new he had not been sure he expected or not. Physically, he was in good health. Hormonally, he was within a normal range. Based off of the information in front of her, there was no reason that he would be unable to father a child. The damage that he suffered that had caused him to urinate blood before had not done anything lasting. He had scarring, but it was superficial.

Healer Shade had given him a clean bill of health.

With it came feelings that Severus wasn’t sure about. He had expected problems and was prepared to work or find other solutions to solve this issue he’d created in his head. Severus expected that he’d lived through too much, suffered too much for it to even be possible. Artimis had blown all of those concerns away with the affirmation that if he wanted to, he could be a father.

That had caused a dark stir in him, wisps of memories of his own father curling into his mind. Pressing them back, he already knew that he would never be like that man. Not if he had anything to do about it.

As soon as the exam was done, they seemed to slide easily into a conversation about her research. She’d managed to replicate magic creatures bearing offspring that did not have magic because of her experiment, and then she was able to stimulate that magic to return. It was a leap to go from Pixies to the magic community, but it was a proof of concept that had not been done before. He was rather proud of her progress, as much as she was.

Leaving her before her lunch hour with another stack of data and more notes, he made his stops at the apothecary to get what he needed for his research. George Weasley had already started the process of submitting the substances to the Ministry for approval. 

Panic Puffs, in both forms, were complete, as was the Soothing Salve. 

Nightmare Nougat had been reformulated for the ninth time and finally gave calming dreams and not sexual ones. 

Tension Toffee had only needed slight adjustments to remove indigestion, so it was now ready for approval as well.

Fatigue Fudge gave him some pushback; it either did not work at all or had one moving at the rate of a hummingbird. It needed to be reworked, and the worst part was not the brewing part of the concoction but was that he hated making fudge now.

But it was the added project that had been giving him the most problems. Angelina, Weasley’s fiancee, had asked for something to help with her menses pain. It had aligned with his research with Artimis, and he’d started to tinker with something. There were already a million teas and brews, all that worked with limited success. Mostly it seemed to him like they were meant to mask the symptoms or make it so that the complaining person was too out of it to keep complaining.

The crux of the issue was that he could only test it once a month, meaning progress was slow. He didn’t dare offer it to Hermione, not with the fact that he knew nothing about what was in the potion she was on for Artimis. So he needed to use Angelina as his subject for now. Thankfully, George was corresponding with him, as he had no desire to be the one asking the woman about her monthly if he could avoid it.

Severus made his stops, even dropping in to see Draco for a bite. The young man had filled him in on the plans for his wedding, and they’d had a nice lunch. By the time it was over, Severus wanted nothing more to return to the quiet and the peace of home. He also wanted to see Hermione and tell her what the results of his appointment had been.

* * *

The house was quiet when he arrived, and he wondered if her session had gone over. He took off his shoes, dismissing his purchases to the lab for further preparation and his notes to his office. He noticed that her shoes were by the door, which made him concerned that he didn’t hear her.

Severus began to move around the house, looking for her. Fresh herbs were hanging over the sink, but they were dry enough that they’d been there for a few hours. She wasn’t in the garden, either.

As he returned into the house from the garden, he heard her shriek his name. It was coming from upstairs, and Severus did not hesitate to lope up them, concerned. The sound of her voice had sounded like pain, and if she was hurt, then he needed to get to her quickly. His wards did not feel breached, so it might have been some accident in the house.

“Hermione?” he called out as he got to the landing.

The bathroom door was shut, and he could smell the overwhelmingly floral scent coming from it.

Her breathless response had him more worried. “I’m in here, in the bath.”

Moving to the door, he pressed his ear against it, listening because she yelled for him. “I heard you yell, are you alright in there?”

He heard water splashing around, movement in the room, but nothing that told him that she was in danger. 

There was a long pause before she answered him. “Come in here, please.”

“You sure?” Severus asked her, knowing that she was likely naked in there and that she’d been very concerned about him seeing her naked.

Hermione still sounded like she was having trouble breathing through the door as she replied. “Absolutely.”

His hand pressed to the door handle, opening the door. Steam and exotic florals affronted him as he looked into the room. Hermione was standing in a towel, her face flushed. Severus could not see a reason for her cry. Moving into the place, he looked her over, seeking wounds or something else.

“Hermione? Are you hurt?” He couldn’t grasp why she’d called for him like that if there had not been a serious reason.

She smiled at him. “I’m not hurt.”

Before he could ask her more, she was pulling him down her lips. Her lips were plump and wet from her bath. Unsure at first, still concerned, it took him a moment before he let himself since into the passion she offered him.

Heat ran down his neck as her fingers ran over it, and he grabbed her, pulling her into him. The desire for her stirred as she smelt like a night flower and tasted like perfection.

Severus was gasping for air with her when he drew back, looking at her with amusement. “I suppose you really did plan to snog me into next week.”

The look she gave him was not one of amusement. Instead, it was one of fire and desire. Her hands dug into the wool fabric on his chest. Her words were breathy, and he instantly recognized the arousal in them. “Severus, I want you right now.”

Her words went right to his groin, and it was only self-restraint and knowing that he needed to be sure that she wanted this that stopped him from embarking on her request at that moment. “You sure.”

“I have never been more sure in my life.” She breathed, and Severus could see it in her eyes. He didn’t even have to reach out; she was projecting what she wanted him to do, what she wanted from him.

The fire ran from his neck down his spine, coiling into his pelvis. In Hermione's eyes, it was all there, desire, lust, and woven in it, love. He let his own desires roll to the surface, all the want he had to be with her in his expression.

Wordlessly, he took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. If she wanted him, if she desired anything of what she had been showing him, it would be done properly and in a bed.

His free hand moved to tug his cravat away, throwing it to the side as he pulled her into the room. She caught his face, her lips drawing him in again. His palm pressed the door shut as he cradled her to him. 

Severus felt her whisper a spell against his lips, and he felt the buttons on his frockcoat fall to the floor, severed from their holes as they bounced on the carpet. Her hands were already pushing the fabric back as if it was offensive to her. There was something incredibly arousing about it, how she had a sense of urgency, with no desire to wait. 

They’d done their waiting.

He didn’t know what brought this on, but he was hoping to the divines that she would be able to enjoy his attentions. Hermione was adamantly undressing him, her fingers seeking exposed skin. He didn’t know when she’d gotten his belt off, but he saw it fly to the side of the room as her hands sought the placket of his trousers.

It was impossible to tell who was leading whom as they fell into the bed.

She was kissing over his skin as he ran his hands over her damp skin, praising her. “Merlin, you are so beautiful, Hermione.”

“Sweet Circe, keep talking Severus, your voice is sin.” He heard her growl against his chest, a deep sound that he’d not heard from her. 

Severus caught Hermione’s chin, bringing her up to face him. Her brown eyes spoke volumes without her saying a word. It made him a touch worried still, even against the lust and passion flooding his veins, he knew this wasn’t her usual behavior. “Are you sure about this? Are you under the influence of something?”

She blinked at him and then shook her head, smiling. “No. I am of sound mind and thoroughly consent to what we are about to do. Now, please get rid of these trousers before I rip them off it you.”

As if to make her point, she dug her fingers into the belt loops, giving a tug.

Severus could tell she wasn’t lying, but he still summoned his wand. He flicked it over her, looking for compulsion or some other curse. 

Hermione giggled at him, shaking her head and rolling so that she was on top of him. 

“It is me, I want this. Please, Severus. Please.” Her words were desperate now. The last of his restraint was lost as she rolled her hips against his.

A guttural moan left him, his head tilted backward. He’d not had any sense of pleasure for almost a week, and now she was there, grinding into him eagerly.

“Same rules.” He grunted, dispelling his trousers but leaving his boxers.

Hermione breathed at him. “I have the power.”

“Good. Now, come here, my witch.” Severus said, pulling her shoulders down so that he could worship the skin before him.

Pressing his feet into the bed, he rolled him, her on her back under him. Her legs wrapped around him as he began to lick and suck on her collar bone. This was the closest he’d had her to naked under him, and he was already hard in knowing it. There was nothing but a towel and his boxers between them.

His heart was pounding in his ears as she pressed her fingers into his back. “Sweet fuck, Hermione.”

He nipped the joining of her neck to her shoulders, and she arched her hips into him, making the most exquisite noise he’d heard in his life. He did it again, and she writhed. She smelt like sex already and flowers, and it was a heady bouquet. Sliding down her body, he kissed the tops of her breast that were over the towel.

“Severus.” She keened, and one of her hands moved under his chin, untightening the knot she’d tied. 

He marveled as she shifted the towel down, exposing her breast to her. While Severus had met them in the darkness, he’d never had the chance to view them in the light of day. Her skin was pink with her arousal, and both her nipples were small peaks. Leaning to one elbow, he lowered his head, taking one in his mouth.

She gasped under him like she was no longer able to breathe.

It was all Severus needed to keep going. His fingers caught the other nipple, massaging it as he swirled his tongue around her. Her chest was jumping with her pants and his attentions, and it sent pleasure through his body. There was quickly becoming not enough room in his undergarments for his arousal.

He hummed against her, switching sides so that both of her breasts would get the attention they deserved.

Her hands grabbed his hips, pulling him down so that he was pressed between her legs, her heels pressing into his ass. If there had not been a barrier of clothing, he was sure she would have just impaled herself on him in that gesture. “Do you want me now?”

“Oh yes, please, Severus, I want you inside me. Please.”

_Merlin, Circe, and Morgana--_ he had never heard her plead in that tone of voice, and he had no resistance against it. 

His hand slipped down between her legs then, touching the one part of her body that he’d not yet been able to feel.

He growled involuntarily when he realized how wet she was. And it was not just from the bath that she’d escaped. Her legs loosened on his hips, opening to his exploration.

“Oh, Severus, yes.” She quaked out as his fingers swept through her folds, his thumb barely sweeping over her clit.

Severus shifted how he was on the bed, his hand moving from her to his own hard length. He pulled the boxers down, freeing it from the confines. He was trembling, and it was from the heady blend of her arousal and the anticipation. 

“You have to tell me if I hurt you, or if you want me to stop,” Severus said, looking into her eyes. 

“I will.” She held his gaze, her lip worried between her teeth. Never in his life had someone looked at him like that.

Getting to his knees, he grabbed her hips, pulling her up to him. One hand held her up while the other positioned himself.

His chest was so tight, and his breaths were so shaky that he could barely ask her if she was ready. 

But she didn’t answer with her mouth, but with her body, pressing into him. 

Closing his eyes, he prayed to every being in the universe that he would last. As it was, he was so close to the edge that he thought Severus might not even be able to fully enter her before he was spent. He wanted to last; he wanted to make love to her, to worship her.

Tipping his hips into her, Severus leaned forward, capturing her lips. She was so tight around him, her body taking grip of him as he slipped into her folds. Her hands dug into his hair, kissing him forcefully as her calf tucked behind his back, sinking him into her quicker than he’d anticipated. It was impossible to tell who was groaning at that moment, the sound rising from them in two-part harmony.

Something in his chest gave out, and there was a sense of completion, of perfect that he had no words for. It was if someone had poured liquid gold into his veins, and he was on fire from the sensation. He sucked in a deep breath of air, thinking of anything he could to hold himself together as he started to rock his hips into Hermione.

Hermione was rocking her hips against him, and he slipped his arms under her back, lifting her into perfect alignment with him. He drew back and slid into her again, making her gasp his name.

It flooded his mind, and all of his ideas of this being gentle lovemaking seemed to disappear. “Hermione.” He grunted, the primal need in him taking over as he began to thrust his hips in and out. 

Her hands found his back, and he hissed as her fingernails curled into the skin.

_ A is for Aboleth, B is for Baskalisk, C is Chimera… _ He began to go over magical creatures in his mind to keep the pressure in his balls from exploding forth.

‘Severus, please. I- I want, _please_.” Her words were gasps as her hands grasped at him, pulling him into her. 

It was as if he was unable to disobey her begging. There was no longer a guise of control as he thrust into her, his back tensing with every movement as she keened under him. Gasping for air, his eyes met hers again. He was unable to look away from her as he continued to thrust into her.

Her hands moved to his face as she cried out a visceral sound.

There was no warning as he felt her clamp around other than that sound. Severus let out a hissed grunt as he felt himself explode into her, burying to the hilt into her fluttering warmth.

He couldn’t close his eyes; he was transfixed on her gaze, just as she was locked with his. Time froze, both of them stuck in the throes of ecstasy. Both of them panting and crying out.

Something happened. Severus didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t really think at the moment, but it felt as if he fell into her eyes. As if there was no wall between her mind and his mind. He could feel her pleasure mirroring his own. The lines blurred, and there were not two of them anymore; they were one being.

It was not a result of the sex, he could tell that. Or at least, not just the sex, there was something more at work here. Magic poured over him, over them. For a moment, he felt like everything he was had been sundered and rendered into a million pieces.

As quickly as it happened, it stopped. Severus and Hermione's gazes were still locked, but the sensation of magic fleeting. He watched as a ring of gold seemed to settle around the rich brown of her irises.

And it hit him like a stupify between the ribs.

_She was it._

It **hadn’t** been a lie, the prophecy woven from some crackpot vampire seer.

Hermione _was_ his soulmate.

And they had just consummated that bond.

The golden thread that had existed between them was now unbreakable.


	71. Consequences of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.
> 
> Special thank you to CorvusDraconis for being my motivation/threat for this chapter.

Hermione was trembling and in utter awe. This wasn’t like any kind of sex she’d ever had in her life. 

Not that she’d had a plethora of partners, between that one time with Viktor that went tits up and all the times with Ron that ranged from alright to less than pleasant.

Everything in her body vibrated, like some primal song that her voice could not mimic, but her body knew expertly. Pleasure rose over her head, sinking her below the waters of another orgasm as she held the gaze of the man she loved.

The onyx eyes of Severus Snape. 

In all her life, she realized that she never wanted anything as much as she wanted this. That this sense of completion and home was all she would ever need. That he was all she would ever need.

As she cried out, she tried to scream out how much she loved him.

But something happened, something that silenced her.

Her eyes held with Severus’s and everything stopped. It was as if she was reaching out to him with her mind and he was reaching out to her. Everything of them blended together, thoughts, sensations, emotions. Hermione was overcome with the feeling of both having him in her and being in her. Of being both over and under. They were one, one unified being.

Pressure in her chest erupted like her ribs caved in around her heart. As if there were more than just her heartbeat there, but his heart too. Magic pressed into her skin, replacing the sweat with the cold press of it. Every inch of her hummed and fluttered loudly without making a sound.

And they shattered. 

It was so distinct, so sharp that Hermione was sure that they were a mirror that had gone fractal, pieces spinning in the ether. The only thing that existed was his eyes, full of emotion, and holding only her face in them. It was the only thing that needed to exist.

Everything began to wane, the shards of them reforming into something new, something wholly magical and unique to them. Hermione watched as his eyes changed before her eyes, something powerful and golden slipping around the dark irises, giving them a light she’d never seen before.

Hermione had never felt this before. What she thought was love before felt like a schoolgirl crush before the full height of this new emotion. It filled her and then retracted, sinking into the cavity that was her chest with the heat of the very sun.

Her chest was quaking with her breaths as everything crashed into her. Shakily, she reached for Severus's face, her fingers pressing the beads of sweat from his forehead. As her quivering eased, warmth, like a down blanket over her soul, settled throughout her.

His eyes changed again. Severus looked at her with something akin to abject horror and drew back from her hastily. 

In the passion and love-filled haze, Hermione couldn’t process what had caused the change in him. Confused and still swimming on ecstasy hormones, she tried to reach for him to keep him close. 

He shook her hand off her arm, withdrawing from her faster like a creature escaping their doom.

“Of fucking  _ course _ .”  She heard him say with a voice that was so sad it almost broke her heart.

“Severus?” Hermione gasped, sitting up and feeling fear that she’d done something wrong. “What is it? What is wrong?”

He sat at the end of the bed now, bent over, his face in his hands. Severus had his shoulders curled down, the bumps of his spine pressing against his skin. Like he was trying to curl into a ball. 

Crawling to his side, Hermione heard him mumbling.

“It was too _ good _ to be true. Too much to believe you wanted me. That you loved me. You are too beautiful, come from so much, smart, too perfect. I am such a fucking  _ fool _ .” Severus seemed to choke into his hands.

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, and he jerked from her as if she had burned him. She didn’t understand what had just happened. It had been the best sex of her life, and she hoped it had been great for him too, but this was not the sort of reaction she expected. It hurt to hear him say what he was saying. 

_ How could he think that she didn’t love him?... _

Had she said something she couldn’t remember while in the throes of passion. 

_ Had she called out another name…?  _

_ No, that was impossible, Severus was the only one she had been thinking of, involved with… _

Hermione did not touch him again, but sat next to him, tilting forward to look at him.

“What am I missing here, Severus?” She asked softly, wanting to desperately touch him.

He turned to look at her, eyes as dark and angry as his words. “We’re soulmates, you  **_idiot_ ** .”

Hermione reeled back, not expecting the gaze or the tone. He’d not called her an idiot and meant it in a long time, and something about it cut to her heart.

_ Soul mates?...  _

Looking away from her, his face went back to his hands.

“I don’t understand. Why are you upset?” Hermione breathed out.

His shoulders started shaking, and she heard what sounded like him sniffling. It sounded like he was— 

No, surely her mind was playing tricks on her. 

But it wasn’t— she heard him make the unmistakable sucking sound of trying to breathe while crying.

“Why are you crying?” She wavered, reaching for him, her hand on his knee. This time, he did not flinch from her.

His voice was warbling, the tears held in each word. “Because you do not really love me, Granger. It’s all predestined bullshit!— It’s all someone else taking power—  _ control _ over my life again and ruining the one good thing in my world.”

All the air left her lungs, and she was sitting there, holding his knee, gasping. Her eyes were filled with tears as Hermione tried to comprehend what he was saying to her.

He was hurting. 

Severus thought that she didn’t love him. 

That this was all some kind of— _ trick _ ?

Hermione had to convince him otherwise. “I do love you, Severus. I love you so much. Please, don’t say that I don’t.” 

The look he gave her now made her eyes go wide with disbelief. He looked so miserable as if his heart was broken. Severus’s eyes were red, wet with tears as he shook his head at her. 

“How do you know that it is not just this bond that drew us together?” Severus rose his voice, flicking his hand between both of them.

Something compelled her; she couldn’t stop herself. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into an embrace. He went rigid in her embrace, and she cupped her hand behind his neck, pressing his face into her shoulder. 

Her mind was scrambling for an answer, something that would make sense. She didn’t even know what this talk of soulmate business was about. It was supposed to be storybook nonsense, wasn’t it? 

_ Was that magic she felt a result of their souls mating?... _

It was something she could think about later. Right now, there was something more important, which was making Severus believe that she did love him. Turning what he said over in her mind, she realized that he thought she couldn’t avoid being with him. 

A thought arose in her, the only bit of logic that her addled mind could summon at the moment. “If that were true, how— how would I have been able to leave the  _ first _ time?”

As much as she hated bringing up when they departed each other's company, it could also be what helped him understand that she was there because she wanted to be with him.

“I don’t know, but if you are bound to me, how can we really know that you love me?” He breathed against her, the anger slipping from his voice, turning heartstrings into razor blades with his apparent fear.

Hermione smoothed her hand down his bare back, trying to comfort him even as she tried to rally her thoughts around all of this. “Because I am here, telling you that I love you, Severus.”

  
  
  


Black eyes looked into hers, his face pink and blotchy. Even still, it was evident that he was trying to impress an idea upon Hermione with the stern line of his lips. “Hermione, you  _ know _ magic can make fools of us without us knowing it. Soul magic is old and powerful.”

If she was honest with herself, Hermione had very little knowledge of what soul magic was capable of. The only soul magic she knew of was Horcruxes, and this felt nothing like what it had when she’d been subjected to that magic. It had never been important or needed for her to research it further, and now, Hermione felt like she should have. Feeling woefully unprepared for this conversation only added to her need to convince him that this was real, that she wanted to be here.

“If loving you makes me a fool, then I will be a fool for the rest of our lives,” Hermione whispered, her hand coming to cup his cheek. Hermione wanted— no, she  _ needed _ him to believe her. Needed him to understand that her love was not something that came with a price or some kind of geas.

His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow as he shook his head. “You foolish woman.”

She grabbed his chin in her hand, boring into his eyes. A glimmer of hope cast a shadow over those onyx eyes, and it let her know that he wanted to believe it. The gold ring was there as well as if it were now a part of him. 

_ Was it the sign that he was meant to her soulmate?... _

Hermione was still not one hundred percent sure why he was upset with the notion, but that would be something to deal with after she got through to him that she was in love with him. When emotions calmed, and they could talk about it, maybe do some research. Even with the hope in his eyes, it was evident that they still had quite a way to go before he conceived that she was there not by fate, but by choice. 

“Believe me, please, Severus; you are everything to me. I don’t care about some insipid soulmate thing that I don’t even know anything about, I just care that I am with you.” She said, cradling his chin in her hands.

“I want to believe you.” He cleared his throat, his hand taking hers and removing it from his chin. 

“Why are you so sure that I am lying.” Tears began to loom in her eyes, and she wiped them. “If you are, then look, see that I love you.” She let go of the walls he had taught her to place, offering her mind up to his inspection, his perusal to prove it to him.

“I am afraid of what I will see, Hermione.” Severus breathed out, turning his gaze from her.

Even if she had wanted to, Hermione did not think she would have been able to stop herself from pulling him back to her. She hugged him like she was afraid that the second she let go, he would run. Because she was. Fear had settled in between her ribs now. She was sure that Severus was going to turn away from her the second he got a chance. Or worse, that he would want her to leave, that he’d turn her away from his side.

Her heart started breaking as she thought about it. Hermione did not want to picture a life without him now that she’d begun dreaming and thinking of one with him in it. Chest tightened with the profundity of the emotions as words tumbled from her lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”

That seemed to awaken some response in him, as Severus drew her against him firmly as she held him — stronger even. His face was pressing of its own volition into her shoulder. He was still trembling, and Hermione felt hot tears washing over her skin. He was gripping her like he was just as scared as she was. It assisted the tears which were overtaking her waterline, and she tucked her face into his hair. The desire to comfort him guided her hands to running through his hair and coaxing over his back.

This show of emotion troubled her, having never had seen him like this before. Never this open with his feelings.

_ Severus is a person with feelings, even when he tries to hide it in his armor… _ Hermione heard Dr. Dixon’s voice from earlier in the day seize her thoughts. 

It reminded her that it was her turn to support him. Her turn to be there for him as he had been there for her. This was her time to do the emotional labor for him. “How Severus— How can I help you?” She paused before smoothing more of his hair back. “I want to help you.”

“I don’t know.” The words were so quiet, but they thundered in her mind. Severus was on the verge of breaking, and she could tell. There was pride that he could be open with her, but it was outnumbered by the dread of losing him.

She had to help Severus to keep him together as he had held her broken self before. “Do you want to tell me why you feel this way? Why do you even think we are soulmates?”

Severus made an annoyed sound, like a growl against her shoulder. “It’s why the fucking vampires tried to keep us apart.”

_ What?.... _ Hermione’s mind reeled now, as she genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. The vampires had been insistent that she be with Ron, that she suffered because of Marietta’s hate for her. Something in her mind seemed to find this familiar, but at the same time, she couldn’t draw on it. Too much was going through her head. “What are you talking about?”

“Marietta, in her gloating, told me all about visions that a seer in the Council had about us. That we were soulmates.” Severus breathed against her, the words rolling down her back.

“And you never told me that she said this?” She tried to not sound hurt, that he had hidden this from her. That Severus had never divulged what the vampiress had said to him.

His voice was cracking again. “I—it was rubbish. I thought it was rubbish, soul mates aren’t real.”

  
  


If Severus didn’t think it was real, but he was so upset about it, that meant there was something more to this. Hermione herself didn’t even think that soul mates were anything more than fairytales before this. Severus was a consummate logical thinker, much like herself. This had to pose either a threat to his logic or to what he thought he knew for him to rally against something he disbelieved.

“If you don’t believe it, then why are you so upset right now?” She urged him to explain to her what was on his mind.

Severus shifted in the embrace, head now pressed to the side of her head, his lips not far from her ear. “You felt it, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Hermione acknowledged that she’d felt something she never had before, magic that touched her and had sundered her only to bring her back whole again. There was no way to deny that something had happened between them at the height of their passion.

Severus spoke again quietly, his face leaning against hers. “Even Sanguini said we were bound, I didn’t want to believe it, because of what it means.” His skin was hot to the touch like he was burning with fever. She could not see him, but she could hear the roughness in his throat. What he was saying pained him.

“What does it mean, Severus?” Even afraid of what he might say, she needed to know why he was so bothered by it.

“That none of this is real. That our relationship isn’t real.”

If he had stabbed her in the chest with a knife, it would have hurt less. She choked back on a sob, turning her face from where he met hers. Her hands braced herself against him as she closed her eyes, unwilling to let those words sink into her and become real. Hermione would not believe it; she knew that this was real. It had to be authentic when she felt the way she did. “How can you say that?”

“Because how can I know you would be here with me, in a miserable home, without it?” Severus asked her and the pain in his voice echoed the sensation in her chest. 

Hermione tilted her head back, looking into his eyes. “I didn’t even know it existed!” She raised her voice as it wobbled around the pain that had started to try to strangle her.

He looked at her as if she had said something irritating. “Don’t be daft. You don’t have to know magic is there for it to work.”

Severus had let her go from his tight embrace. 

Leaning back from him to sit on the bed, Hermione took his hands in hers. She peered up into his eyes, his mournful eyes, and bit her lip as she tried to find the words. Words had always been something she could harness, turn into something powerful, and fix whatever problem she faces. But now, there were no words, no easy solution, no textbook to quote back and make this all alright. “Severus, how do I prove to you that I am here because I want to be here.”

“I don’t know if you can.” He looked away from her, down at their joined hands. A flicker of a grimace slipped over him. She felt like she was losing him, or worse, that she had.

Hermione wiped a wayward tear away, her heart fluttering against her ribs like a frightened bird trying to flee danger. 

Was this how it ended this time? Hermione once again, madly in love with Severus, more so now, and him turning her away in his pain.

She could hardly whisper the next words, her lip trembling. “Do  _ you _ want me to leave?”

His head jerked up, eyes meeting hers, and she saw what she was feeling in them. Fear. It was the same kind of fear she saw that night that his life was ebbing from him. “Do you  _ want _ to leave?” The expression on his face in contrast to his tone. Severus sounded like the answer didn’t matter, but his eyes spoke of desperation for her to not go.

Shaking her head, she felt another tear run down her cheek. Thinking about leaving him was already pressing on her; if he had said yes, she might have collapsed into a pile of tears then. “No. I don’t want to leave; it breaks my heart thinking about it. I want to be with you.”

His hair shifted over his face as he jerked his head to the side rapidly. “You don’t know that.”

“Severus.” Hermione reached for his face to move the hair from it. 

He tilted his head away from her hand. “Think about it, Hermione. Think of all the reasons we shouldn’t work out.”

  
  


Closing her eyes, she tried to still the buzzing anxiety in her veins, the pained thrum of her heart. Severus was demanding logic from her— reasoning, something to refute the validity of their relationship. Flipping through the ideas and reasons, she could not find a single reason why they couldn’t work out together. “I—I can’t think of any.”

He scoffed, looking at the floor, her knees, anything but her face for a moment. When he did look back, there was a hardness over the exposed emotions of before. “Allow me. You are young and have so much ahead of you. You are beautiful and could honestly catch any man you desired.”

She felt insulted that he would think that vanity was any reason that they couldn’t be together. While he might think her beautiful, she had a very different sense of herself. “Severus, that is—”

His finger pressed to her lips, halting her argument as he quietly pleaded with her. “Please, let me finish. You are wealthy, you come from affluence, and I am a poor fucking chav that grew up in the midlands with none of the things you did. We are from completely different worlds.”

_ Was that how he saw her?...  _

_ Is that how he thought she saw him?... _

She swallowed back the bile that tried to rise at his words. Instead, she lowered her eyes, steadying herself with a deep breath before she asked him what she thought as a fundamental question about how he felt about her. “Do you think  _ any _ of that matters to me?”

“What I want to know is, why doesn’t it?” Severus was severe in his tone, his eyes searching hers. She could tell that he was trying to discern some deception on her part. 

She looked at him straight on, her hand tightening around his as she spoke, willing him to understand that all the things he had listed were the least important things to her in the world. “Because I don’t think about you in any of those ways. You aren’t old, Severus. Hell, a forty-five-year-old wizard, is at the beginning of his prime health. You could live another two hundred years Severus!”

“Doubtful.” He quipped, his lip curving a sneer. 

Hermione knew it wasn’t meant for her because his eyes had flickered away at some thought that she was not privy to. “But possible. And I  _ desire _ you, so why would I, even if I thought I could- go out to catch other men when what I want—  **who I want** — is right here in front of me?”

“Hermione.” Severus sighed as if he was explaining something to her for the hundredth time.

It was her turn to silence him with a finger to his lip. He had called many things into question, and she was not going to rest until he knew exactly how she felt about each of them. “No, don’t interrupt me. I may have come from money and affluence, but I was taught the value of hard work. Who has worked harder than you? I don’t care if you were fucking penniless, I love you for you who are, not what you can do for me. I’m a lot of things, but a gold digger isn’t one of them. I busted my ass my whole adult life to get what I have. My parents took every bit of money with them when I sent them off because I needed to know they were cared for.”  It was unavoidable, the frown that joined her lips as she spoke of her parents. Even with it becoming easier to talk about them, the act of sending them to their death was a raw topic.

Severus must have seen it as his hand squeezed hers back. “I’m sorry.”

She would have none of his pity, none of his feeling sorry for her. Not when Severus had challenged who she was as a person and how she loved him concerning that. “No, no, we are addressing this because I won’t have you thinking that you have to meet some standard for me to love you. I love  **you** , Severus Tobias Snape,  _ for who you are _ . For your brains, for your unmatched wit, for how you can make me feel safe with a touch and loved with a glance. How you look at me like no one else in the world has ever mattered to you, even though we both know that isn’t true. I love you because in my darkest time, in a moment when I had no one, you were there. You didn’t let me fall, to my own devices, or to the man who wanted me dead.”

She hadn’t expected that she would start crying again, but the profession of her feelings for him mingled with the truth that he had saved her in more than one way stirred up the chaos in her heart. Hermione’s love was based on so much more than the superficial nonsense that he had spouted out like it was a fact.

“But how do you know—” Severus began.

_ This has to stop. Severus has to know, by now, that I am not lying to him…  _

She snapped at him, “I know it because it is true, Severus. If I have to find a way to break this soul bond to show you that I love you without it, I will.”

“One of us would have to die for that to happen.” He looked away again, this time, a dark and pained expression crossed his lips.

Without hesitance in her voice, Hermione laid her conviction at his feet. “Then, I would try just to show you I mean it.”

“Hermione.” Severus had caught her gaze now, and she could see that the idea of her words pained him.

Hermione realized something as she saw the raw look in Severus’ eyes. Molly’s cache of hidden letters had detailed a soulbond, and she had dismissed it as rubbish, just as he had. "Look, Severus. I even FORGOT about the soulbond entirely. It was in the letters Molly had squirreled away. I forgot about the soulmate thing because, to me, it didn't matter. I loved YOU. You were there when NO ONE else would be. You were cradling me when I hated myself. Believed I was too broken. You put me back together so I could come back to myself, and it is my true self that chooses you."

“We cannot know this.” Again, he resisted her offering of fact.

  
  
  


Fact. That was what Hermione needed— some manner of expert, someone who could educate them both and help him understand that she truly loved him. That this magic couldn’t create love, just like an Amorentia cannot produce true love. “Let’s think about this a different way. Who do we know who is an expert on this? Is there anyone who knows more than we do about how these things work?”

Severus tilted his head, looking away in thought. His eyes flitted back and forth for a moment before he seemed to settle on something. His lips barely moved as he offered her a name. “Sanguini.”

“Okay, let’s go talk to him,” Hermione said, letting his hand go and nodding resolutely.

Severus looked at her, his eyes shifting down over her person. Something akin to a smirk touched the edges of his lips. “You need clothing for that.”

It was then that Hermione realized that this entire conversation had been had while she was completely naked. Reflexively, she reached to cover herself, gasping out. “Oh, sweet Merlin.”

“Modesty is kind of moot after what we just did.” Severus hummed, standing. He had the luxury of being in his boxers still, while her towel was laid open across the bed where they had been. While she did not feel the same manner of shame she might have before, there was still a deep fear in her that she did not want him to see her naked. “Perhaps for you.”

Hermione was not going to admit that his point was right, as he had already seen her very much naked and for more time than she had even registered.

“I shall write to him.” Severus sighed, turning from her toward his dresser. He stepped over his frockcoat that she’d practically torn off of him.

Hermione grabbed her towel, standing and wrapping it around herself. This was not something that was going to wait for a formal meeting. “No, we are going to see him now.”

“Hermione? We cannot just show up unexpectedly.” He chided.

She was having none of it. Ignoring the aftereffect of standing and having warm fluids running down her leg, she narrowed her eyes at Severus. “I am not going to have you think for any longer than I have to, that I don’t love you. And then, when you are satisfied with the fact that I am madly in love with you, we are going to talk about why you think you aren’t worthy of me.”

“I see I may have woken a sleeping beast.” Something in his eyes softened, and for a moment, she thought she’d gotten through to him.

Hermione lifted her chin, “Or maybe, you reminded me that I need to fight for us as much as you have.”

“Get dressed.” It was a wordless agreement that she’d won this, whatever it was, and that they were going to seek answers before everything they had worked for fell apart.

* * *

His house was not what she would have expected. Sanguini was a vampire at least four hundred years old, but his flat was relatively modern. Nothing like a comically gothic home with old lace curtains and red crushed velvet. There was a telly with a grey couch before it, many magazines tossed on a coffee table with drink rings, and seemed as if this was a dorm of sorts.

She and Severus had interrupted some manner of a board game that he was playing with what Hermione assumed were his flatmates, but they had scurried off upon their arrival. Hermione had barely even a chance to determine if they were male or female, as they were blurs in her vision. Upon closer inspection of the table, it looked like they were playing Monopoly.

The vampire in question was now standing on the other side of the room from them, his face scrunched as if he smelt something rather unpleasant. The pale man looked at them both, a farce of smile on his lips over the distasteful look. Hermione was sure that he was rather upset about their sudden appearance. 

“Master Snape, Miss Granger, this is unexpected. What brings you to my humble abode.” Sanguini questioned, placing himself on the other side of the dining room table that held the game.

Hermione clasped her hands in front of her, a look that begged forgiveness in her eyes. “Forgive the intrusion, Master Sanguini, but we need your help?”

The vampire straightened then, a look of concern on his features. It hinted at the power he held, and a readiness to strike should something pop out at him. “Is that so, has the Council spun some manner of trap upon you?”

Severus held out his hand, shaking his head. “No, Sanguini, she means to say that we need your expert knowledge on a matter.”

“Ah, in that case, what can I do for you?” Sanguini seemed to ease, his shoulders not as tight. But there was curiosity in his eyes as he continued to flicker his gaze between the two of them.

“What do you know about soul mates?” Hermione questioned, looking at Severus and then back to the man who had the most vital chance of saving their relationship. The mere thought that it was in peril made her heartache, it hadn’t stopped aching yet.

With a casual tilt of his head, Sanguini pursed his lips. “A great deal as it has been an object of my studies as of late.”

Hope filled the cracked spaces in her, and she moved toward Sanguini, to ask him more to know more of what he knew and to prove that she was right. She had to be correct, there was no other option. “Does it replicate love? Can it make you feel like you are in love when you are not?”

The look on the man’s face paled, and he took a step back, pressing to the wall. His hand held up to stop her. His eyes were losing the white of them. “Miss Granger, while I have always appreciated your kindness and willingness to touch me with trust, I beseech you to stay on that side of the room.”

Before she could even react, Severus snatched her wrist, drawing her back just a bit behind him. His eyes were fixed on Sanguini as he spoke. “Are you unwell or underfed?” 

“I am in good health and quite sated at this time. However, you both smell of a rather exquisite bouquet of sex, blood, soul magic, and anguish— it both appeals to the beast and repulses the human being in me. I have no desire to lose control of either.” Sanguini offered, his nose once again curled up as if the very scent of them affronted him.

Hermione watched a blush creep up the side of Severus’s neck as he bowed his head. “Apologies, Sanguini.”

Severus guided her back another step, increasing the distance between them even more. 

Sanguini replied, relaxing. “It is not a problem as long as you keep your distance. So, what you want to know is if they can replicate love?”

“Or make it so that love isn’t really existent between the two people who are bound,” Severus added.

Hermione was still thinking about what Sanguini had said. She hadn’t even considered that they should have showered before coming. It should have occurred to her, with all Hermione knew about vampires, that he would have been able to detect the scent of their copulation. Hermione realized that she had not thought of anything but solving this.

Sanguini chuckled and took the chair farthest from them and sat. “May I speculate before I answer you?”

“If you must.” Severus cleared his throat. 

Hermione could tell that he was uncomfortable now, knowing that Sanguini could smell such things on them.

“I must, my friend.” Sanguini sighed, his hand coming to his temple as he looked at them both. “You consummated your bond, and now you feel that since it awoke, that what you have together is some manner of farce or fate drawing you in when you might not have been drawn in before without it.”

She didn’t believe that—she knew that she loved him with all her being and no magic had the power to create that. “That is what Severus thinks, but I am telling him that I love him, no matter the bond.”

“And we cannot know that.” Severus looked at her with exasperation.

“She is right, Severus,” Sanguini interjected.

Severus’s head turned so fast that Hermione felt the whiplash of it. “Explain.”

A sense of vindication and joy washed through her as the dark-haired man offered an explanation to Severus. “Soul mates do not always meet, and they do not always connect. Even if they have ample and regular sex. Some consummations of the bond do not even occur during sex— but it seems, by my sense of smell, that yours  _ did _ .”

Hermione looked at the floor, blushing for a moment as the act was brought into the conversation again.

There was a touch of a hiss in Severus’s voice. “I do not see how this answers the question.”

Sanguini did not even seem phased by the bite in Severus’s tone.“It hasn’t yet. Soul mates are not, shall we say, destined to always meet in  _ each _ life. Or they do, and they hate each other. A bond between those souls will only ever solidify if  _ both _ hearts want it. It is the  _ intention _ of the soul and the heart that makes the bond active or not. It is rather inaccurate to say that they are soul mates alone, as there is much more to it, but the semantics are like that with every school of magic.”

“So you are saying that if I didn’t truly want to be bound to him, or he to me, then it would not have happened,” Hermione asked, voice overflowing with hope. It meant that she was right. Hopefully, with this news, Severus would settle into believing her, and they could have a conversation about the other aspects of what happened this afternoon.

“Precisely. A bond such as yours  **cannot** be faked. There is no  _ lip service _ when it comes to this breed of magic.” Sanguini smiled and looked at Severus, inclining his head as if he were imparting words of wisdom to him. “Severus, my friend, if your bond has cemented, then this woman loves you to the very _ core _ of her being— and you love her just as intensely.”

Hermione felt Severus’s hand on her wrist tightened, and he glanced at her. “And the magic does not inflict that upon either of us?”

“It cannot. The very nature of the contract is that it is entered into willingly and honestly.” The vampire offered.

Hermione met his eyes, and the hope was back, still tainted with disbelief but not overrun with it. “So, you do —”

“ —love you? Yes, Severus, like I have been trying to tell you.” Hermione touched his face, and he closed his eyes. She did not know what he whispered, but his face was covered in gratitude. Hermione looked at the man who had saved them both from despair with a few well-curated words. “Thank you, Master Sanguini.”

Sanguini looked rather smug, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Well, it is always a pleasure to be a resource for my friends for my obscure knowledge.”

“Are there any books on this magic?” Hermione asked, wanting to know more now that this was affecting her and Severus’s life.

“Yes, but do you read Sumerian, Arabic, or Latin?” Sanguini chuckled as if it were a silly question. Either he did not expect that they did, or that expected that they knew all three. It was hard to tell where his humor was directed at that moment.

Severus chimed in now, rejoining the conversation. “I can read Latin, not perfectly, but I can read it.”

The man stood now, moving toward the window on that side of the house. “Then I shall send you some of my texts, you can translate it together.”

“Thank you again.” The level of gratitude in Severus’s voice made Hermione want to cry and kiss him simultaneously. She did not, however, because she suspected it would be inappropriate, all things considered.

The sallow man made a grunt as he opened up the window, letting the late afternoon sun into the room. It did not phase him in the slightest as the sunbeam graced his hand. “My pleasure, now, can I kindly ask you to go home. It is getting to the point where the distance between us is not helping with my control.”

Severus moved toward the fireplace, bowing his head with as much grace as Hermione imagined he could muster. There was a wrinkle of shame on his face, and Hermione felt bad for demanding that they come now, but at the same time, she did not. Hermione followed him toward their exit. 

Severus offered another apology. “My apologies, again, Master Sanguini.”

“Yes, well, I understand your urgency, Master Snape. Have you yet told her of the meeting with the Council?” The vampire smirked, taking in a deep breath of air from the outside.

Hermione stopped in her tracks.  _ What meeting with the Council?... _

Her brown eyes turned on the man being questioned. “Severus?”

“I have not, but I think I shall now have to.” There was a hint of irritation in his voice as if there was something unspoken between them that Hermione had not been privy to.

The smirk on the vampire deepened. Hermione had the sense that this was a bit of tit for tat on his home being invaded. “My apologies then to you, my friend. I shall come to see you both on the morrow, and we can discuss how this new development will, shall we say, make some ancient vampires very frightened.”

“Indeed. Thank you for your graciousness.” Severus said, grabbing a handful of the grey powder that would send them home.

Hermione looked at Severus with curious eyes, then turned to their impromptu host. “Goodbye, Master Sanguini.”

She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close to him as he called out the designation for home. Their home. The green flames rushed around them, and Hermione smiled as Sanguini turned on a fan in the room.

  
  


Landing in the living room, Severus pulled her into an embrace so tight that she thought that she might stop breathing. When she gasped out, he loosened his hold. Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders, placing her nose against his. “I told you, I loved you for you.”

“I didn’t dare believe it,” he whispered. His black eyes were soft, the look he only gave her there. It stilled much of the fear that had been left after Master Sanguini had thrown back the notion that their love was not real into the void.

Hermione pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “But you do now?”

“For the most part,” Severus offered. 

She smiled at him, closing her eyes and settling into the feeling of him. “I'm here to stay, Severus. That means we must stand together. Live together. Face our problems together. It cannot just be you listening to all of my woe. I'm here for you, too, and I want to to be a part of your life, your thoughts, and your plans for the future. Please. Please, don't hide things from me anymore. I can take the truth, now. I can take it because you helped me get to this point again. Let us be together. Together."

He cleared his throat, his voice heavy with emotion as he softly spoke. “Do you mean it?”

She didn’t even need to think about it. In her mind, this was where she belonged: in Severus's arms, in his life. Without him, life would go back to how it had been, with no joy and light in it. “I do. I don’t see myself anywhere else than with you.”

Lips pressed to hers, firmly and she moved her hands to pull him close to her. If they were any closer at this point, there would be no distinction between him and her. 

His voice rumbled against her lips. “Well, then I suppose we need to have a few talks.”

“More than a few.” Hermione grinned then, exiting his space in the pursuit of something she was now acutely aware that she needed. “I want a shower, and then you and I are going to sit down and talk about why you immediately thought that you weren’t good enough for me.”

Severus relinquished his hold on her, and she took a step back. The glint of gold around his eyes flickered in the light of the flames of the fireplace. “I suppose I do owe you that explanation.”

“And you are going to tell me what Sanguini meant that you were meeting with the Council of Nine.” Hermione said, moving toward the stairs.

She heard Severus curse the vampire's name.

  
  
  



	72. Where you go, so will I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

He found himself sitting at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the sound of water from the bathroom upstairs and reeling still from the emotions that had no respect for the fine control he’d cultivated over the years. Severus’s mind tumbled over all that occurred up to now. His appointment with Shade, the spontaneous and passionate sex with Hermione, and the aftermath that led them to invade Sanguini’s home. How could a single day hold so much? How could he feel so much?

His heart was out of sorts.

His mind was not much better.

Severus felt like a cauldron that was overfilled with liquid emotions and being carried across a room. Each moment there was another splash escaping. Awe and shock there, fear with the next step, shame dripping to the floor.

Oh, he felt such shame. How could he not? 

Severus had lost control of his emotions, exposed himself to her judgment and scrutiny, and had dared to cry. He’d never felt weaker than at that moment. 

Yet, the awe of the fact that she had not scorned him. Hermione had not belittled him or been disgusted.  No, she had tried to comfort him— forced him to find a logical resource to calm the fears in him: the suspicion that just like everything else in his life, her love wasn’t real.

Severus’s mind was still wrapping around the fact — _yes, fact_ — that her love was real and as authentic as his feelings were for her. They had both  _ wanted _ to be bound to each other, or it would not have worked.

How much grief could he have saved them if he’d researched the claim rather than shoving it to the side?

Dragging his hands through his hair, he admonished himself for his kneejerk reaction. Severus had potentially hurt Hermione, even with how elated she was acting now. He’d been cruel and called her an idiot, fully well-meaning it. If that wasn’t cause for worry, Severus had turned her first sexual encounter with him into a rocking horse of emotion. There was a chance he’d turned her off the whole prospect of ever being intimate with him again in his blind anguish.

_ I’m the one who is the idiot… _ He sighed, fingers pressing into his skull.

  
  


The water shutoff and he heard the door to the bathroom open. Tilting his head, he listened to her walk toward the bedroom across the creaking floor. The bedroom door creaked open.

Hermione’s voice called for him. “Severus?”

“Down here.” He groaned, pushing himself to his feet using the railing.

She came to the top of the stairs, head inclined in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Just thinking.” Severus dismissed her worry with a flick of his hand as he climbed the stairs.

A soft smile curved over her lips, and she turned toward the bedroom. When Severus reached the landing, Hermione was already in the other room. “Bathroom is all yours now.”

“Hermione, come here.” Severus extended his hand, beckoning her. As she approached, he drew her into an embrace before stepping back, his hands resting on her damp shoulders. “I apologize for what I said when I was— upset.”

An amused noise left her and her hand rested on his face. Severus’s lips quirked ever so slightly. “I forgive you. Come lay down with me when you are done.”

This confused him, as Hermione had clearly said that they were going to talk. Perhaps the energy expenditure had made her too tired to do so. Severus suspected it would be an early bedtime for them both tonight in that case.

“We are not talking tonight then?” He asked her, taking a step toward the bathroom.

Hermione nodded her head. “Oh, we are, but I want to lie down. I’m a bit sore.”

He watched as her hand moved to her abdomen as if it pained her. It had not even occurred to him that he'd caused her injury in the more ambitious motions of their lovemaking. Shade had said that she had lasting damage from what the brute had done to her. Seeking answers, he leaned forward with concern over his face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, but I used muscles I haven’t in a long time, and well, my body isn’t used to the intrusion,” Hermione said the words with a humored smirk.

He still didn’t like the idea that she was uncomfortable. “Do you want a pain potion?”

“It’s a good kind of sore. Shower, I’ll be waiting for you.” She shook her head.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll hurry.”

  
  


The water was still surprisingly hot, even after she’d taken a hot shower. Severus could tell because the room was still steaming when he went in. He’d expected he’d get enough heat to wash quickly before having to cope with a lukewarm shower. Lately, he’d noticed that the hot water seemed to last longer. Since she updated the bathroom, in fact.

Thinking to ask her later, he scrubbed himself. Embarrassment painted his ears pink as he realized that in their rush to find answers, they had entered themselves in a potentially dangerous situation. Sanguini was a vampire. They both knew this, and yet, they had shown up smelling like French carry-out. Severus would have felt he owed the man an apology, but Sanguini had seen to evening the field, telling Hermione of the council’s invite. He wanted to blame the vampire, but he couldn’t. Severus was aware that he’d been generous with both his time and his retaliation.

Drying himself once he exited the shower, he noticed that the mirror wasn’t fogged. That was a bit of magic that he’d appreciated her doing to the bathroom. It made shaving after a shower so much easier. But it wasn’t the slight stubble that caught his gaze. 

Severus’s eyes looked alien to him. He leaned into the mirror, tying his towel around his waist. It took him a moment to realize what it was that set him off. Around the black eyes he had always known, there was an added layer, a shifting bit of gold. It was the same as the one he’d seen in her eyes. Examining the change, it sought to remind him what Sanguini had said. Understanding settled in. Severus had to have wanted this too for the magic to work. He had to admit, the idea of her being his forever was not unwelcome; he’d already professed as much to her. At her side is where he would remain until she sent him away.

Deciding he’d tarried long enough in his thoughts, he exited the sauna of a room. The cold air of the landing assaulted him, a chill running over exposed skin. Hermione had to have opened the window. Stepping into the bedroom, he found that his thought was correct. Grabbing a pair of pants from his drawers, he dressed with his back to her. With a flick of his wand, his hair was dried. He had no desire to lay on a soggy pillow.

  
  


Hermione was smiling at him from the bed, and she tapped her hand on his side of it. 

Apprehension tickled the back of his throat, as he knew this would be a difficult conversation. Sliding into the bed, he slipped his arm around Hermione's waist.

“Hey.” Hermione snuggled closer to him.

He snorted, cupping her cheek. “Hello.”

For a moment, they stayed like that. Severus traced his thumb over her cheek, down her nose, and over her lips. Admiring her, settling into the awe that this beautiful creature wanted him, loved him. Somehow, he’d not sent her running into the night, and she was there with him.

She cleared her throat, her hand grasping his in hers. She placed a gentle kiss on his palm across the scar from when he’d bid the castle to reshape in her name. She hummed and let out a puff of air. “So, since we both despise small talk, why don’t we talk about what happened here.”

His eyes flicked toward the wall behind her, to the tall mirror that was covered with a drape. Severus felt shame creeping up in him, and he did not want to look her in the eyes with it. He swallowed as he felt her slip into his personal space, her face pressing into his neck.

“Would it be better if you didn’t have to look at me? My therapist sometimes has to look at the wall or turn around so I can talk to her.” Hermione whispered against his skin, warm breath cascading down his chest.

He drew his arms around her, holding her in place. Words were not coming, he felt constriction across his ribs, but it was from the bands of years of silence pressing in on him. Severus prayed for her patience because he was not accustomed to this, any of it.

“Here, turn around, I will be the big spoon,” Hermione said, drawing back from him.

An eyebrow raised at her in conjunction with his snort, but it had been enough. The humor and outrageousness of her request seemed to loosen the hold on his tongue. “If that is what you want.”

“I think it will help.” Hermione turned her hand at him, telling him to rotate in place.

  
  


Doing as she asked, he flipped, now looking at the wall. Her arm slid under his arm, wrapping around him, and she pressed herself up against his back. Fingers slipping into his hair and lips touched the nape of his neck softly. There was something so intimate about this that Severus felt his heart lurch with affection and a deep longing he didn’t know he’d had. Never in his life had he been the one to be held. Not like this.

“Is this comfortable?” Her warm breath washed over his ear.

“Considerably.”

Severus lingered in the comfort of her embrace. His eyes closed as her fingertips gently massaged his scalp. His skin tingled with the well of emotions that seemed to tetter like a vial on the end of a counter within him. 

It was her words quietly slipping over his cheek that ignited the conversation. “So, why was your first thought that you weren’t good enough for me?”

“Hermione, my first thought was not that,” he corrected. No, his first thought had been something more primal and painful. A horror that Severus had not been prepared to handle.

The next question was expected. “Then, what was it?”

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he looked at the wall. His hand found hers as it lay against his stomach. “Fear.”

“Of what? Me?” 

His eyes pinched closed as Severus looked for an easily digestible answer and found there was not one. “It is hard to—explain.”

“I have all night, and nowhere else I would rather be.” A kiss to the back of his neck punctuated her words.

Deeply breathing, Severus examined the emotion as he had been doing on the stairs before. While he had to admit not having her eyes on him, probing him, made it easier to speak, easier did not mean easy. Silence settled, and to Severus, it did not feel impatient. Hermione did not feel as if she was impatient with him. It helped to ease the words from him. “All my life, everything has been decided for me. In one manner or another. Yes, many bad decisions were made by me, I will not deny my responsibility, but I spent so much of my life beholden to those who had me under their control.”

“Riddle and Dumbledore.” Her hand gave his fingers a squeeze.

He tilted his head, seeing her wild hair obscuring her face from him. “Two among the many, yes.”

“So, you were afraid you’d lost your option here.” She lifted her face up, looking at him curiously.

Severus shook his head, frowning. “Not just my option Hermione.”

He watched as realization slipped into place in those dark honey eyes. Hermione's face dipped down behind his head again, softly speaking. “I see. You were worried about me.”

“I was… afraid that you’d leave once you realized that magic was binding you here. That you would think I had trapped you. And I was afraid I would lose you.” Black eyes moved back to the blank wall again as the rest of the thought came to the surface. “And even darker thoughts that I never had you in the first place.”

Her fingers intertwined with his against his chest. “I understand. Which is why you got angry.”

The way she said it was as if it was just trifle. Hermione had already offered her forgiveness. As they spoke of it now, it was as if it had not been a blow to her. 

He knew better; he’d seen the pain in her eyes. “I do not deserve your patience.”

“You do. You deserve it and so much more. You are worthy of everything.”  Her words swirled through his ears and into his chest like a gentle caress. 

Severus sucked in a breath, lifting her hand so that he could kiss her knuckles. “How can you say that with so much confidence?”

“Because it is true. Now, why don’t you believe it?” Hermione demanded softly.

Scoffing against her hand, he rolled his eyes. “Where do you want me to start.”

“Well, how about we establish the fact that money doesn’t mean anything to me in regards to what you mean to me?”

Closing his eyes, he began. Severus began to explain himself. It took considerably more effort than he had thought to speak of the poverty he’d experienced as a child. Severus believed that she’d react poorly and pity him. He was surprised to find that she did not. Instead, she was merely asking questions when she wanted to know more about something.

He explained his family's reputation in Cokeworth that many families had not much to do with them. That more than once, the kind cashier at the shop that Hermione had met, had let him and his mother through with more than they had pounds to pay with. It was never something he liked to talk about, but revisiting it now, seemed to open older wounds—ones that had festered and turned necrotic years ago.

Much of their money troubles came from one source. Severus's father, Tobias, had been a drunk and a gambler. Any money that passed through his hands rarely went to care for his family. Instead, it went to the drink and the races. If there was a complaint or request for any for the house, it was often met swiftly with a fist.

His mother, Eileen, did what she could, but she was not accustomed to the muggle world and had no verifiable education. Her parents had abandoned her, cutting her off after forcing her into a wand point wedding for getting pregnant out of wedlock. Severus knew all too well that he was the reason that they had been forced to marry. A drunken fling with a Muggle for the thrill of it had turned his mother’s life upside down. She never said it, but Severus knew that there were many times when she wished he’d never been born. Not that he blamed her for it. 

Explaining this to Hermione had her gripping him tightly, her mouth pressed to the back of his neck. She confided softly that she was happy that he’d been born, and it made him kiss her hand. It was the first time someone had ever said it aloud. That they were happy, he had been born. He didn’t have words for what it made him feel, aside from gratitude. It was more than that, but he couldn’t pinpoint the name of it. Fortunately, he was looking away from her, so she couldn’t see the slight moisture in the corner of his eyes from it.

“What happened to your parents? If you don’t mind me asking.” Hermione whispered quietly, her hand in his hair still tracing over his scalp.

While he expected the question, he still wasn’t prepared with the answer. It was a sore topic, one that required more explaining. He huffed out a strained breath, feeling the tension in his back from the thought of it.

He went on to explain that his relationship with his father had never been good, even when he had been a boy. There would be times when the man would stop drinking, start to try to act like a father to him, but such times had always been short-lived. Severus had learned early that no matter what his father said, when he was sober, it was meaningless when he had been drinking. There had never been any love there between the two of them.

However, his mother had at least tried. She was young, alone in a world she didn’t understand, trying to care for a child with no experience or assistance. But she had done her best, and he would always credit that to her. Severus had watched her struggle with everything and still make time for him. 

It was from his mother that he had learned to love reading. When he was young, they would borrow books from the library when they could sneak off there. Sometimes, she had read to him her old textbooks from Hogwarts. Books had been a luxury to own, and it had been one he hadn’t had. 

He had known his mother had been a witch from the time he could talk, and Severus had known that he was a wizard and would eventually go to Hogwarts—that he would get to do as she once did and learn magic. So when his letter came, it was no surprise to either of them. 

Tobias had tried to beat it out of him—to destroy the notion of going to that school away. He had drunk himself into a fury and tried to kill Severus. It had been one of the only times he could remember his mother standing up to his father and not ending up on the floor.

His mother had won that battle.

He had to stop for a few moments, closing his eyes as he got to the heart of her question. Hermione had asked him what had happened to his parents.

“Are you sure you want to know what happened?” Severus asked her, giving her a chance to say no and him to not have to speak about it.

She gave his hand a squeeze. “I do, but only if you want to tell me.”

He did not want to tell her, but part of him did. It was the first time in his life he felt like he could speak freely, and what he said would not be used against him. Severus did not know when this sensation had settled in on him while speaking, but it was there.

“The summer I came home after my fifth year, my mother was not waiting for me at the station. It was odd, she’d never missed the train before.” Severus’s voice was quiet as he remembered the time. Fifth-year had been hard enough, with Potter and Co nearly killing him—more precisely, Sirius and Remus. Along with that, he’d gone off and ruined his friendship with Lily.

He continued, rubbing his thumb over her knuckle. “I managed to sneak on to a train running up toward home. I had assumed, perhaps, that my father had forbidden her from coming to fetch me.” 

“It wasn’t that was it.”

“It was not. I returned home, and my old man was drunk in the bedroom. This bedroom, in fact.” He bit his lip, his mind taking him back to the time and place almost against his will. “I’d asked him where mum was, and all he told me was _ ‘your mum is dead boy, go fetch me a drink since you’re home.’ _ ”

Hermione gasped in his ear. “Oh Merlin, Severus, I am so sorry. What happened?”

Severus took a moment, controlling his breathing with pauses in between each breath. He needed to still the quiet anger that started to simmer under the surface, the unanswered rage that this conversation had stirred. 

“He killed her. Sometime during the year. And no one thought to send me a word.” Severus’s hand was shaking, and he let Hermione’s go so that he could shake it out. He did not want to hurt it by squeezing too tightly. Gritting his teeth, Severus explained what he knew. “He said she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. It was how he got away with it. But I knew, by the way, he said it, that he’d been the one to break it— the stairs were a convenient excuse.”

“But she was a witch?” Hermione said as if a witch versus a muggle man was a match in favor of the magic-user.

Severus let out a heavy breath, retaking her hand. “So are you, Hermione.”

The implication weighed down the room, and he heard her suck in a breath with realization. Just because his mother had magic did not mean that his father could not overpower her. Just as Hermione being the brightest witch of her age, did not stop Ron from doing it to her.

Her voice was quieter, and he felt her touching her forehead to the back of his neck. “It explains a lot about how protective you are of me. I am sorry, I asked.”

“I am not. I- I have never told anyone this Hermione, not anyone who is still alive for that matter.” He confessed. He’d tried to tell Lily, but she would not hear him, and by that time, he had no trust for Albus Dumbledore. It was a burden, like many of his others, that he carried alone.

Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I am honored you have trusted me with this then.”

“You may not be if I tell you what happened to my father. Once I tell you, there is no taking it back.” Severus offered her another out, for this could change how she felt about him. 

“I will listen if you want to tell me.” Her whispered acceptance made him shudder.

Very few people knew about the real demise of his father. Those that were there to witness it, to bring back testimony of proof, and those who tried to hold it over him years later. Much to their dismay, it had no power over him, not when it happened and not when it was tempted as blackmail. Severus, even now, could not bring himself to feel guilt. Not after what he suffered, not after what his mother had suffered. “Initiation into the ranks of Voldemort required sacrifice. I am a half-blood coming from a well to do pureblood line. The muggle who sired me had killed my mother. He tasked me with severing myself from that which dirtied my blood. It was a job I was all too eager to do.”

“You killed him.” Her words worried him.

He would not deny it, not to her. “I did.”

“How?” What she asked him had confused him. 

Why did she want to know how he had brought about the demise of his father. It was unlikely something that she truly wanted an answer to. He inferred that she mostly wanted to know how he had not been caught.

“Painfully. I would rather not go into detail. According to muggle law enforcement, there were complications from consumption destroying his body. Everyone knew he was an alcoholic. They had deemed to send me a letter this time.” Severus snarled as things long gone and over.

Her fingers started running through his hair again. He had not even realized that they had stopped until the comfort was there again. “Did it make you feel any better, avenging your mother?”

“No.” 

Lips pressed against the space just under his ear. “I am sorry, love.”

Baffled, he shook his head. How could she kiss him after he just admitted to killing a man painfully? Severus understood that Hermione knew- for a matter of fact- that he had killed before. But for her to accept it without so much as a harsh word was unexpected.

“Maybe we should change the topic.” She whispered.

Severus agreed, nodding his head. “It was a long time ago, it feels like another lifetime. No bearing on us at all. I am sorry that I deviated.”

  
  


Hermione sat up now, looming over his side to look down at him. He looked up, expecting to see distaste or even anger. Instead, he saw compassion and what looked like understanding. “It means that you think because I had a loving relationship with my parents, and had the money for many of the things I wanted, that somehow you are beneath me. I am here to tell you, Severus, that none of it matters.”

His eyes widened as he took her and her words in. Somehow this woman accepted him and his past and his flaws. Not just accepted Severus but loved him knowingly, instead of in blind ignorance of his actions in the past. “I tell you that I have murdered a man, and you confess to loving me despite it. There is something wrong with you, Granger.”

“I know you tell me all the time.” Her lips quirked affectionately, and she pressed a kiss to his brow, leaning over him.

Warmth spread from his face down, replacing some of the revived feelings from the past. “And I shall keep telling you so. I have a topic in mind if you want to hear about it.”

Hermione leaned across his side now, her arm pressing down on him as she questioned him. “Oh, are you convinced that you deserve me?”

“We have a lot of time to deal with that. I would like to tell you about my appointment this morning.” He offered. Severus felt he’d spent enough time lingering on a past he could not change for the evening. He’d rather turn the conversation to something that would perhaps be important in their future.

Severus was thinking about a future with her, and he dared to think of it just a touch more emboldened, now that he knew that the magic between them had been willingly accepted and forcefully applied.

She rose an eyebrow and settled down behind him again. “Alright.”

“But, I will be facing you, my dear, for this.” Severus wanted to see her face. He wanted to know how she felt. Besides, while he enjoyed being held by her, he wanted to behold her.

Her arms slipped around from his waist as a small laugh left her. “I suppose I can agree to that. But after this, we are talking about what Sanguini said.”

“Of course.” Severus sighed, flipping in the bed so that he was facing the woman that he loved. 

His fingers traced her cheek, and she smiled. His thumb drew over the roundness that came with her smile. There was barely a handbreadth between them, and he closed that distance, pressing a kiss to her lips tenderly. Drawing back, he saw himself reflected in her honey eyes with blatant love.

“So, what did Healer Shade say,” Hermione whispered.

Severus recounted to Hermione much of the uncomfortable encounter, not all of it, but enough that she was holding back a smile in an attempt to be proper. Seeing her so amused at his apparent misery would have made him a scowl, but he could not find it in him. He explained that he’d been subjected to testing and spells that he did not know, and Hermione seemed unphased as she expressed that she had undergone the same with the Healer.

“I assume she gave you positive results?” Hermione asked him as he drew to the end of his retelling of the event.

Severus nodded, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand and looked into her eyes. “I was not as injured by the venom as I assumed. According to Artimis, I am in good health, and should there be a chance that we would want to make an attempt, I can sire children.”

There was something in her eyes—a look of awe, happiness, mirth that was painted over with a grey splash of sadness. Hermione looked at him like she’d been given the best news ever on the worst day of her life. 

Severus tucked her into his arms, pressing his mouth to her ear. “As I said before, love, now we know, now I know. It is something to be tucked away for a time if we may need it.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said quietly against his neck.

He sunk his fingers into her hair, mimicking the way she had rubbed his scalp before. “You are welcome.”

“Thank you for being so strong for me, for doing this and being everything I never knew I needed. Thank you for helping me find me, Severus.” He felt her words pass over his skin and climb into his chest.

Something in him stirred; it was almost like possessiveness, but milder, a sense almost of pride and home mingled with the word ‘ _ Mine.’ _ “We do these things for those that we love. And you should know that I love you in both word and action.”

“Obviously.” Hermione drew back, evidently trying to sound like him.

Severus laughed and let her lean out of his embrace.“You need to work on drawing that out if you are going to attempt to impersonate me.”

Her nose wrinkled, and she spoke slower. “Obviiousssly.”

“Better, but still only barely acceptable.” Severus teased her.

His mocking made her laugh loudly. It was a bit contagious, and when she tried to scowl at him while laughing, he found himself joining in with her. 

For a few moments, she continued before she pressed her hand to her stomach. “I’m getting hungry.”

“As am I.” His stomach did rally at the sound of food now that it had been mentioned.

Hermione turned on her side again, her hand cupping his chin. His well-practiced observation told him that she was going to ask him something rather profound. Severus prepared for it, his face slipping into the comfort of a neutral expression. 

“But, before we decide dinner, I want to know what you are hiding from me with Sanguini or otherwise.” Hermione queried.

His eyebrows raised, and he pursed his lips before answering her. “I am not hiding anything from you, I am— or was— merely protecting you from information that might compromise your progress.”

“Fine, what have you been protecting me from? I am strong enough to be told. We are in this together, from here on out.” She grabbed one of his hands between hers, holding it firmly as if to make a point with its symbolism.

Severus could not keep it from her much longer, not that Sanguini had let it slip. While he would have appreciated a chance to tell her on his own terms, he understood why it had been done. He sighed, leaning his forehead against their clasped hands. “The Council of Nine wants to have a special audience with us. They have conscripted Sanguini to be the envoy between them and us. Sanguini and I have been planning how to best put this in our favor.”

“Why meet with them at all?” Hermione’s voice was worried, but not scared.

He asked this question many times already, but he knew that it was merely something that had to be done. If it was ignored or forgotten, it had consequences for not just them, but the vampire that had saved Hermione’s life. “Because Sanguini’s way of life is at stake and he put his neck out for us. And, if we have the upper hand, we can sway them into never darken our door again.”

“And if we fail... we survived Darcy and Marietta for nothing.” There was a sign of resignation.

He looked up at her, promising her silently that nothing would happen to her this time. He would not let her go off to face that manner of danger ever again if he had the power to stop it. “Sanguini has offered many ideas on how to prevent that.”

“Will I be involved in tomorrow's discussion.” Her eyes were searching his, almost as if they were asking him to not close her out.

Severus nodded, pressing his lips against her hand. “Yes. If you wish it.”

“I do. Anything else I need to know?”

Severus hesitated, considering the ramifications of telling her what else he’d been doing. Since the visit to the Sorgfalts, he had reached out to a few people to get more information on the circumstances of Hermione’s parent’s death. Even Shamus had agreed to touch out to the contacts he had there, as being an Unspeakable, he had many channels that were not available to Severus.

But Hermione was right. If they were going to move from this point forward together and openly, she needed to know this. She was strong enough, and if she wasn’t, he would be for her as he had been. “I have an acquaintance searching for your parents.”

As expected, he watched her face shift through many emotions. Confusion, horror, pain. Those brown eyes settled in sadness, and she let his hand go as Hermione covered her mouth. “My parents are dead.”

“As you have said, but some of the events trouble me, and I want to make certain that this is not someone duping you or tormenting you needlessly.” He explained, not wanting to cause her pain. His reasoning for this was the exact opposite of wanting to induce pain.

Her lips pitched into a strained frown. “I- why look for them?”

On instinct, he drew her back to him, cradling her to his chest. He shifted, rocking her slightly as he spoke. “Because you deserve to know for a fact if it is true or not.”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up on this.” Her whisper was strained as her frown. 

He knew then that while she was strong enough, it would needlessly cause her to suffer if nothing ever came from it. “Then, I will tell you nothing more of it unless I learn something.”

“Thank you. I love you.” Hermione tucked her arms around him and sighed. Her leg moved over one of his, and it was as if she was molded to him. Everything about her fit perfectly, and he had no desire to leave this spot of warm serenity.

  
  


That peace was interrupted by a loud rumble. It originated from the gut of the woman in his arms, but he had to think twice to be sure it had not been from him. “Was that your stomach woman?”

“I said I was hungry.” Hermione blushed as if she were embarrassed by the sound.

Perhaps they had lingered much too long in the opinion of her stomach. Not that his wasn’t reminding Severus that he had not had anything but coffee and a quick scone with Draco. “As I can hear. What do you want to eat?”

“I was thinking maybe something from the chippie?” Hermione said with a beckoning smile.

He sighed at her, wondering what her game was now. “You think the food there is horrible, Hermione. You won’t say it, but you think the chips are too soggy.”

“But you love it, and you’ve had a long day. I will enjoy my slightly soggy chips for you. We have other times to eat my comfort foods in the future.” Hermione chimed.

He watched as she slipped away from him, moving to get out of the bed.

Hermione’s mention of the future had caused him to think of it again. A lot had changed in twenty hours, and he had questions. “About that?”

“Hmm?” Hermione opened her chest of drawers, pulling out a pair of socks.

Severus sat up on the bed, looking her over. “With all this, our future, what is- does this change? Do you want more of me? A more solid commitment.”

The implication was there. It wasn’t a grand proposal, he knew it, but if it was something Hermione expected, with the binding of their souls, he would give it to her.

She didn’t answer him at first, and he could see that she was thinking hard. Hermione’s eyes were focused on things he could not see. Finally, she took up his gaze, lowering her head as she smiled.“Today, let’s get something to eat, and we will sort the rest as we meet it.”

“Is that a no?” He asked, trying to contain the tickle of fear.

Her smile brightened, and she shook her head. “That is ‘not right now.’”

“But you are staying here with me.” The words escaped, showing the concern that she would leave was still there, even as he tried to conceal it.

She crawled onto the bed to him, her hand pushing back his hair. With a kiss, she calmed his worries momentarily. “Where you go, so will I.” 

  
  



	73. Answers and Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

It didn’t take them long to get ready to leave the house. Severus was in dark cargo pants and a grey shirt this time. It was so mundane, but his casual dress made her smile after everything that had happened today. 

Hermione reached for his hand and elation ran up her wrist when he took it. 

She knew that he wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but the way he smiled when he entwined his fingers with hers told her that he was more at ease with it. At least here, in the muggle world where there wasn’t a reporter every few blocks trying to write about the war heroes they were. Here, they were just two people walking along a lane, hand in hand, and in love.

The fluttering of her heart underlined that part of the sentiment. Sanguini had told her all she needed to know. They, plural, were mutually in love. There was no room for doubt when the magic that required intention was involved. When it had worked only based on that intention and desire to be together, to be bound.

Her eyes danced over him as he walked at her pace. Severus walked quietly, his face was tired, and she knew that he was exhausted. So much had happened in such a short time. She thought she should be tired, but really, she felt at peace. It had been a long time that everything just felt right. If it ever had.

The silence settled between them like a soft shawl of comfort. There wasn’t a need to fill it; it existed as an extension of them. Hermione gave his hand a squeeze. Dark eyes flitted to her, a curve of a smile at the left side of his mouth, and he squeezed back. It was more than any words could convey.

As they walked, Hermione found herself replaying what Severus had divulged to her. Immense pride in his opening up to her slipped over her features. He’d said so himself that he’d not told a soul some of what he told her. And she understood why. Hermione had always suspected that Severus had had a hard upbringing. That conclusion had come from the memories that Harry had seen and how he behaved. But Hermione had never expected that it had been as dark as Severus explained it to be. It explained so much about why he had acted the way he did. It also gave her a greater appreciation for what she had growing up.

She would endeavor to make sure that Severus never thought that he was only worth what he could give her. It didn’t matter to her, money and wealth, and power. She could have all those things with the right placement of her name. However, Hermione wasn’t interested in that kind of life. 

The life she was interested in now was one with him in it. Hermione’s lips rose as she thought over the fact that Severus had proposed. In his own way, of course. While she had told him to shelf that idea, it had made her feel something in her core. Severus did not make commitments or promises without significant consideration. To even imply it was a show of devotion that filled her with joy.

It just wasn’t something she was ready for. Hermione, if she was honest with herself, wasn’t sure if it would ever be something she was prepared for again. Ron had soured the notion to her, with all that she’d gone through to absolve herself of it.

The smell of the fish and chips place wafted through the streets. Severus was right; she thought the food here was terrible. But it was evident to her that it was something of a comfort to Severus. She imagined that as a boy, it had been a treat, all things considered, and that was why the greasy soppy chips did not put him off. 

It was starting to get packed already, the dinner time rush starting up. She let go of his hand and stepped closer, wrapping her arm around his. 

  
  


A woman stuck out in the crowd, her brightly colored dress like a splash of color against the monochrome patrons. She turned around and Hermione recognized her.

Zoraida Richardson broke into a smile, waving at them as they approached. “Getting a bite as well?”

“We are Mrs. Richardson. How are you?” Severus nodded politely to the older woman.

The woman guided them into line with her, ahead of the others that were there. “Fine, we are doing just fine. Lue wanted something different for supper tonight. How are you two doing? It’s nice to see you again, Hermione.”

Hermione beamed that the woman had remembered her name and smiled. “We’re doing great. It’s good to see you too.”

“I meant to pop by and ask you if you wanted to come over for tea sometime, but the time had gotten away from me. Can you believe it is almost July? Where has June gone? I swear, it just up and ran.” The woman spoke with her hands and Hermione noticed that she wore more than one ring on each finger. Her fingernails were flecked with paint and Hermione could not get over how much the woman reminded her of Luna.

Hermione could not believe that it had been nearly a month since she moved in with Severus. Looking up at him, smiling softly, she offered her insight into it. “Time flys when you are enjoying it.”

“I suppose that is true. It has seemed as if it is going quicker than the norm.” His eyes met hers and he was openly smiling at her. It made her melt against him, grinning.

“Oh, look at you two, I remember when Lue and I were just settling down.” Mrs. Richardson made a pleased hum, crossing her arms and nodding approvingly.

Blushing, Hermione turned her gaze back to their neighbor, trying to turn the conversation and not embarrass Severus. “Thank you. So you were saying about tea?”

The woman lit up and reached out, taking Hermione’s free hand in hers. “I would love for you both to come over and you can meet Lue. How does Tuesday night sound?”

Hermione gazed up at Severus, raising her eyebrow. She had no plans for Tuesday, but Severus might have some meetings lined up. 

Severus inclined his head, “Tuesday is fine for us.”

Mrs. Richardson looked as if someone had told her that Christmas had come early. Her smile was bright and lit her up to her eyes. She looked younger than her age with such jubilation on her features. “Lovely. You don’t have to bring a thing. It will nice to cook for more than the two of us, with the boys both gone off.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione questioned.

“Certainly. We will play a round of cards or two if you are up for it. I know it would make Lue happy to have someone who knows how to play over.” Zoraida gave Severus a knowing look.

The look he returned was reserved as if he were trying to not show too much pride. “You are too kind, Mrs. Richardson, I only know how to play because it is the local sport.”

The line had been moving the whole time they had spoken. Hermione had hardly noticed that they’d gotten up to the front. But the next person moved, and the clerk was calling Mrs. Richardson forward by name. 

She obviously hadn’t realized either, as she jumped, letting Hermione’s hand go and turning. “Oh, that me. Lovely to see you both, I’ll see you Tuesday,”

  
  


Severus and Hermione ordered their food soon after Mrs. Richardson left. Hermione watched as he tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes darting around. The crowd was making her just as nervous as it seemed to make him. As soon as their food was in hand, Severus guided her out into the warm summer air.

“We should have thought to go sooner.” He hummed at her, reaching for her hand as he let go of her elbow.

It did not escape her notice that it was him reaching for her. Hermione grinned, taking his hand. He lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand before continuing to walk. It was the first time he’d been the one to kiss her in any shape in public of his own volition. 

If she hadn’t been in love with him before, she would have fallen in it again.

As the evening settled in, they walked home, hand in hand.

* * *

  
  


The next morning, Severus had been the one to sleep in. Determined to make sure that the house was not offensive to Sanguini, Hermione had risen early and started cleaning. She’d opened the windows and set about dusting the library. Since it hadn’t gone through a deep clean yet, it needed it.

Hermione had fished her radio out from her bag and set it on the kitchen counter. She had it tuned to the Wizarding Wireless Station, humming along to some of the music that she did know and enjoying the newest summer music. It wasn’t loud, she had no desire to wake him up, but enough to reach her in the library.

The music stopped and a familiar voice came over the airwaves. “This is Lee Jordan interrupting your summer solace with this week’s Potterwatch Update. It seems that the Man-Who-Won and Ginny Potter, the best chaser the Holyhead Harpies has ever seen, are expecting a third child. This news came to us with the press release that Ginny would be sitting out for the rest of the season. Don’t be sad, Harpy fans, Mrs. Potter will be returning to the pitch after this baby just as she has before.”

“Why is Lee Jordan in my kitchen?” Severus asked her.

Hermione jumped; she’d not heard him coming down the stairs. “It’s Potterwatch on the Wizarding Wireless. Lee still does updates about us weekly, but he tries to keep it respectful and funny.”

The noise he made was obviously not pleased, but he'd not had his coffee yet, so nothing really pleased him. He moved into the kitchen, his eyes falling over the offending radio as he poured his coffee. 

Going back to dusting, she listened as Lee talked about the renovations that Neville and Hannah were doing to the Three Broomsticks. Lee was exuberant as usual and Hermione gave a snort as he spoke of running over for a pint after this update. The Wizarding Wireless Network was based in Hogsmeade, making sense that Lee was excited about his pub getting a refresher.

“How long does this go on,” Severus asked, joining her in the library. 

Hermione stood on her tiptoes, the duster in her hand as she worked her way down another bookcase. “Normally shorter than this, he has more to talk about than normal today.”

Severus leaned against the doorway, his hand over the top of his cup. “Every week Mr. Jordan talks about you lot?”

Shaking her head, she worked her way down his massive collection of books. “Not just us. Anyone who is considered apart of the DA and the Order.”

“Even me,” Severus asked.

  
  


Hermione went to answer when Lee started speaking on another topic. Her.

“On another note, Hermione Granger seems to have taken a holiday from the Wizarding World, and who could blame her. After the catastrophe that she suffered, I say the woman deserves a well-earned break. Where is Hermione taking her holiday, you might be asking? I don’t have this on any authority, but sources close to her have hinted that she is spending the summer with a certain Potion’s Professor that she was snogging on the Cover of Witch Weekly earlier this year. Is romance brewing between two of them? ”

Her face went pink and she turned away from him. Being closed off from the Wizarding World for the last month save for her correspondences, seemed to leave room for speculation. 

Severus came up to stand next to her, smirking. “Well, refreshing to know that he still won’t say my name.”

“Lee is not stirring anything up. If he did, his wife Cho would murder him.” Hermione tried to explain, surprised that he wasn’t angry. She still didn’t want him feeling like the broadcaster had invaded. It was a part of her life that she’d come to expect. 

“I sense he is saying nothing outside of what the world thinks at this point.” Severus leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Lee’s excited tones still rang through the house. “And that’s it for Potterwatch. Enjoy this next classic from The Weird Sisters after some commercials.”

  
  
Hermione gave him a proper good morning kiss, tasting coffee on his lips. 

“Hmm, morning. I see you are in a cleaning mood.” Severus’s eyes moved from her to the duster in her hand.

Nodding, Hermione explained herself. “Don’t want to cause Sanguini any more issues.”

“Wise choice.” Severus agreed, downing the rest of his coffee. 

Hermione watched as Severus walked back to the kitchen. She returned to her cleaning of the bookcases. Flicking her wand, Hermione banished the dust that fell around her. There was a spell to do it all in one go, but she was worried about damaging the books. Some of them looked old, and some spells reacted with ancient binding magic.

The Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Commercial ended over the Wireless and a familiar song started playing in the background. Magic Works by the Weird Sisters. Hermione grinned and turned her head, calling into the kitchen. “Oh, I love this song, please turn it up a notch.”

The music’s volume raised and Hermione went back to cleaning, humming and swaying along as she worked. It wasn’t one of their more punk rock anthems, but a slow and hauntingly romantic tune. If she remembered, it was called Magic Works. Mouthing the words as she moved to the next bookcase, she felt Severus come to her side.

“I think perhaps I have lost my head, as I am compelled to ask you if you would like to dance with me.” The amused words slipped out of Severus’s mouth.

She turned to look at him, smiling as she sat down the duster. Flicking her wand to expel the excess, Hermione took a step toward him. “I suppose it is easier to ask me here instead of a room full of gossiping staff and students.”

Severus pulled her to him, his hands guiding her by her waist. “Hmm, decidedly so.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone you’ve gone barmy and romantic on me.” Hermione teased him, wrapping her arms around him. She leaned into him, placing her head on his shoulder. Following his feet, she smiled at the closeness of him. 

It wasn’t dancing as much as it was them swaying gently to the music. That didn’t matter to Hermione because there was something special about it.

Severus whispered into her hair. “Please see to that as I do have a reputation to keep, which you are slowly ruining.”

“You don’t seem all that mad about it?” It was a tease accompanied by a chuckle.

Severus echoed her chuckle. “I have found I don’t care quite as much. At least in regards to you. I still wish to be seen as a curmudgeon who hates everyone else, if you please.”

“I’m sure you will be able to do that. A few of those glares, some scowls, and everyone will remember who you are.” Her hands flexed over her back as they rocked across the room.

“Indeed.” Severus pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

A gentle calm settled over them as they danced. Hermione closed her eyes, basking in the effortless intimacy of the moment. The world slipped away from them, leaving them as the only beings in time and space. At least for the duration of the song.

As it rounded out, he gave her a squeeze. “I find that it was not as uncomfortable as I had first assumed.”

“Feel free to ask me to dance with you anytime.” Hermione breathed out, drawing away from him as he took a step back.

Severus gifted her with a grin and nodded. “I just might. I’m going out to the garden to collect some reagents. Then I will gather the notes that Sanguini and I have been working on. I’d like to go over them with you before he gets here, so you will be up to speed with us both.”

“I would like that.” Knowing where they were with planning and not having to play catch up while he was here would benefit them all. 

Going to pull his shoes on, he nodded. “I know it is why I suggested it.”

  
  


Hermione spent the rest of the morning, ensuring that the house was clean. While she could not smell to the degree that a vampire could, she knew how to take measures to remove scents. The bedroom was aired out and the linens changed. Every room, except the second bedroom, was touched. Hermione needed Severus's help because there was so much in there, and she didn’t dare rifle through his things without him there.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, she was worn out but pleased with her work. If Sanguini was offended by any scents in the house, it would be a miracle. Tired of body, but not of the mind, Hermione decided to do some reading while Severus was up in his study. 

It had not taken him long to prune his garden and he had even respectfully dispelled any of the dirt on him before entering the house. He’d earned a kiss for that consideration. 

When Severus came downstairs from the study with his notes, she was nestled in her chair with one of her books from Dr. Dixon. It was the one on the languages of love, and she found the research into the topic rather interesting. Immediately Hermione resonated with Acts of Service Love Language. Just as she was getting involved with the book, Severus reached out, touching her knee.

“He should be here in less than an hour.”

Marking her page, she tucked the book on top of the pile and sighed. She would have time later to dig into that; this was more important. Hermione shifted in her chair, looking over to Severus as he began to explain where they were in planning.

  
  


* * *

The meeting with Sanguini was not how she had planned it. She was used to planning with less verbose and more hotheaded people because their calm disagreements were surprising.

The Council of Nine requested that the meeting be held before the trial for the deaths of Darcy and Marietta Harkness. Sanguini believed it was to use the trial as a bargaining chip. If the Council put in a word that it had been unsanctioned behavior and that Hermione and Severus were defending themselves, there was a high likely hood the case would be dropped.

Hermione couldn’t argue with that line of thinking, because it was what she would do if she had that kind of power. Both she and Severus thought that it would benefit them to not have to go through that court case, so it would be before August 17th.

One of the things she found the most interesting was that Sanguini had seemed to retain some of the resistances of the potion that Severus had brewed for them before that fateful night. Hermione also learned that part of the reason that Severus had been so tired during that time was that he was using his own blood as a test medium for Sanguini. Apparently, that was how he made something that made their blood repulsive to the Harkness’s. In doing so, Sanguini had developed the ability to prevent himself from being mind rolled by another vampire.

The fact that the Council had no idea about this gave them an advantage.

Another advantage was what Hermione brought to the table. They had already proven that lycanthropy could kill a vampire. Or at least weaken one enough that they could then be destroyed. Hermione had spent years at the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures. There were a few of those affected by the affliction that held her in some regard. If they agreed to come, it would show the Council that they had allies that were not afraid of them.

Sanguini thought it a great idea, but Severus was hesitant. He didn’t want someone to get hurt over perceived threats. It was Sanguini who reminded Severus that the threat from the Council of Nine wasn’t implied, it was outright stated. It was only fair to do the same.

Much of the night had been focused, however, on locations. Sanguini wanted to see if they could secure a room at the Ministry, but Severus wished to host it at Malfoy Manor. Both had good points, and it came down to Hermione to make that call.

While the Ministry had old magic, it would also be teeming with people who did not need to be involved. It would be hard to conceal such a meeting and that could spread even more trouble.

Hermione, as much as she didn’t want to go there, was leaning toward Malfoy Manor. Severus had made a point in saying that many of the wards placed there during Voldemort’s time there were still intact, and the grounds themselves were magical. It could keep those uninvited out with painful consequences. He’d already asked Lucius if he would be willing and he’d agreed. 

The final weight that decided that it would be Malfoy Manor was that it had a similar magical energy to Hogwarts Castle. It had been why Voldemort had demanded it be the base of operations in the first place. 

  
  
With that resolved, that left only one thing to be addressed. The proverbial elephant in the room. Why in the hell was the Council so afraid of Hermione and Severus being soulmates. Sanguini had brought some texts, but he set them aside as he leaned back in the conjured chair they had placed in the library for him.

“You see, it is a sporadic occurrence. So rare that many, like you Severus, deny the existence.” The vampire explained, his hands clasped under his chin.

Severus made a face at being called out on his disbelief. “The magical society, on the whole, doubts it.”

“Understandably so, when you cannot prove it because there are not enough people who have it. I would like you to bear in mind that it is not every soulmate they fear, it is you two, specifically.” Sanguini offered.

This revelation made Hermione incredibly confused. 

_ Why would it be them and not every pair of soulmates?  _

_ What was so special about this situation?  _

“Why us?”

Sanguini grinned, nodding as if he expected the question from her. “Because you are Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, and he is Severus Snape, the Man of Two Masters but Servant to None.”

“Is that really my title among them.” The distaste was as evident in Severus’s voice as it was on his face.

“More or less. At least, the _polite_ version.” Their pale companion gave Severus a look that said he did not want to hear the impolite version. 

Unfortunately, all Sanguini was doing was giving her more questions and fewer answers. She frustratingly felt as if she was missing something important. “What does that have to do with all this?”

Sanguini leaned forward into the chair, his eyes focused on her. “To understand this, I will need to go into what you can do now that your bind is secured. You see, Hermione, you and Severus are incredibly powerful on your own. But the mating of your souls has made some powerful changes to you both.”

“Such as?” It was Severus who poised this question.

It was a question that she wanted to be answered too. She didn’t feel any different, other than secure in the fact that Severus loved her. There was no sudden burst of power, no unhuman strength. Sanguini was making it seem like they had been transformed into an unstoppable force.

“You are connected in ways that many cannot comprehend. Energy and magic can move from one to the other. There was but a taste of it when Marietta tried to consume you with the Tenebris. Severus anchored you so that you could not be drawn into the trap.” The man explained, looking between them.

“How do you know that?” Hermione asked of him. There was a flicker of memory, of catching the golden thread in her bubble as she was being attacked-- of feeling it sustain her and keep her from losing herself. She’d not divulged that to anyone, not even Severus. So how did Sanguini know about?

A fanged smirk graced her face, one that reminded her that she was dealing with a being that had senses superior to her own. “I was there, and soul-magic is something that we vampires are very attuned to. After all, our souls are immortal and, as such, are an infinite source of power. A Tenebris Cage is a piece of soul magic, potent, as it harnesses the punished soul. An Aurum Cord is also a mechanism of soul-magic.”

Hermione felt Severus reach out, touching her arm as if he was trying to ensure that she was there and safe as he spoke with apprehension. “And what is that?”

“It is your connection.” Sanguini offered, an amused smile replacing the more intimidating grin. “You two have been bonding slowly all this time, which is why your cord is so strong. Instead of happening all at once, you’ve been tempering it with trials and tribulations. The Council has every right to be afraid of you.”

This wasn’t making sense. 

_ What did ancient vampires have to fear if it only affected the two of them?  _

Hermione wanted to know more; she needed to understand the reason behind all of this. “Why?”

“You cannot be manipulated in the same ways that many are by vampires. They cannot touch your mind and mold it to their will. Two anchored minds fight harder than one lone one, and since you are both Occulems, you will fight even harder. Where I am resistant, you are impervious to it.” Sanguini snorted as if he was amused by the prospect that they could not be tampered with mentally.

“So, they cannot try to control us.” Severus summarized.

Hermione could see the merit in that. Control was the primary tool that a vampire used over a victim. Removing that could make them hesitant to pursue either of them as a target.

Sanguini nodded, his lips twisting. “And they cannot seduce you. Much of the charm of our allure is appealing to your heart’s desire. You already have it. If I were to try to seduce you, Miss Granger, into baring your neck for me, you would feel no such compulsion.”

  
  


Now that was not possible. Hermione had seen what vampire compulsion could do; no spell could thwart it. She wasn’t even sure that Occulemcy could dissuade a compulsion of a vampire. “That sounds unlikely, I have seen that compulsion in full effect before, and it was impossible to block.”

“I can demonstrate if you would like?” Sanguini offered his hand out to her.

Severus's hand tightened on her forearm. “I don’t think that would be-”

She interrupted him, placing her hand over his. “Yes, I need proof, and I trust you do not harm me.”

It was apparent that Sanguini sensed that they disagreed on this, and he turned to her lover with a question in his eyes. “Severus?”

“She is not mine to order around— if you are _sure_ , Hermione.” Severus took her gaze.

If it had been any other vampire, she would not even consider it, but she had seen his control over himself. If he didn’t attack them last night, then he would not now. “I am. Sanguini has shown more restraint than any I know.”

“Very well,” Severus said, lifting his hand from her arm and perching on the edge of his seat. Hermione thought that he looked like he was ready to leap should the need arise.

  
  


Hermione turned to look at Sanguini, repressing the shudder as his pupils expanded. She held his gaze, fully trusting in him. Even against the part of her brain that told her that this was a predator. Blinking at him, Hermione felt a wash of something like warm water slip over her, but that was it. 

After a few moments, Sanguini exhaled, closing his eyes and looking away. He pinched his nose. Hermione didn’t know what he had tried to do, but it did not seem like it had worked at all. “Was that all it really is? It didn’t work.”

He still didn’t look up, his hand massaging the inner corners of his eyes. “I assure you, were you not bound to Severus, you would be in my arms at this moment, unable to resist the pull to follow my every command. Rest assured, I do not lie to friends.”

Hermione looked at Severus, her head tilting as she explained to him what she felt. “I felt the magic, but it was like something just slipping over me and falling away.”

Something like relief settled in on Severus’s face, and realized it as his jaw unclenched and eyes relaxed.

“Which is why you are dangerous.” Sanguini offered, shaking his head now and opening his eyes. They were once again normal.

Hermione was starting to see what the issue was. “If they cannot control me, then they cannot defeat me.”

“Precisely.” Sanguini leaned back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. “ Vampires resort to violence as a last resort. Even more so against magic folk.”

“Because they are not immune to spells,” Severus said matter of factly.

The vampire looked paler than he had moments ago and he lifted his hand rotating his wrist as he spoke. “Add in the fact that you can both draw on the power of each other and you are formidable.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked as he had not mentioned anything about that yet. 

  
  


Sanguini looked like he was trying to find the words he was looking for. It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, it was slowly and concisely. “Your Aurum Cord is a conduit that goes between your souls and your magic. It can allow you to do great feats that would tax a singular person. However, if you are not mindful, you can drain and exhaust your mate magically.”

“So, you are saying that Severus could draw on my magic and I would not be able to stop it.” That sounded dangerous to both of them; what sort of accidental damage could they do to each other.

A quickly risen hand halted her train of thought. “No, usually it is a willing exchange. In times of duress, it might be unstoppable, but that is the soul trying to save the other.”

“I understand how this makes us dangerous, but to go to these lengths put them in our crosshairs. Why wouldn’t they just leave it?” That was the part that made the least amount of sense to her. But orchestrating all this madness, they had done the very thing they had sought to prevent. Severus and Hermione were soulmates with an activated bond. 

Severus sighed, leaning his forehead into his hands. He sounded like he had just graded an incredibly lousy essay. “Because of the prophecies.”

“Master Snape is correct. In a normal case, you would be avoided at all costs. However, it is believed that your bond will be problematic for them.” Sanguini seemed to share Severus’s exasperation with the way the Council had handled this.

Hermione added her frustration to her words. “If they had avoided us, none of this would have happened, and we wouldn’t be having this meeting.”

“You know what they say about fate and divination. Sometimes trying to prevent the act is what causes it to happen. You can never know which way the fate winds blow.” The vampire humphed, shaking his head.

Hermione had always had a vendetta against divination, ever since 3rd year, which only added to that bad feeling. “So, they caused us to come together and be this strong. Which is what they were trying to avoid in the first place.”

“And they are trying to make nice so we don’t turn on them and bring about whatever reckoning the seer foretold,” Severus added.

Sanguini agreed with them. “That is their intention.”

  
  


The conversation lulled there, the three of them sitting in contemplation. A lot had been discovered, explained, and demonstrated. There was a lot to think about and she was sure, even more, to do. Once again, Hermione found herself planning to take on forces more prominent than her. “Delightful. So, what do we do now?

Her words seemed to rouse them both from their thoughts and Sanguini nodded resolutely. “Now, I arrange the meeting and we put what we have planned into action.” 

“I shall have a date for you within the week from Lucius.” Severus offered.

Sanguini rose to his feet, bowing his head at them each in turn. “Very good. I bid you both a good evening and thank you for your hospitality.”

He made for the floo and Hermione stood from her chair. “Master Sanguini?”

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Sanguini slipped into the same formality that she had addressed him with.

She needed to make sure that he understood that they had not meant to ruin his evening. That it had been an accident and that she appreciated that he was who he was and had the sense to maintain his control. “I am very sorry about yesterday, with us showing up as we did.”

Sanguini gave her a remorseful smirk. “Ah, yes. It was embarrassing to win Monopoly by default. Two of my flatmates did not resurface until just before I left for here today, but it was for the best from the sounds. Fortunately for you, there were not more of us. If it had been a Catan night, I might have had to defend you.”

“We will endeavor to not make that same mistake.” Severus stood now, offering his hand to Sanguini as if he were giving him a promise.

Hermione watched as they shook on it. “Please see to it that you do not. But, know that I do not hold a grudge against you for it.”

“Thank you, Sanguini,” Severus said, moving to wrap his arm around Hermione. She tucked into his side as the vampire reached for some of the powder.

“What are friends for, Severus? Farewell.” With a parting nod, he was gone and on his way home.

  
  


Hermione looked up at Severus and smiled. “I saw you ready to leap at him if it worked.”

“For the sake of my blood pressure, please do not taunt vampires into trying to seduce you. Immune or not, I do not like it.” Severus’s face held something akin to jealously mixed with worry.

It was enough for Hermione to know that she would not need to make him feel that away again. “It was for research, I will not do it again.”

“I appreciate that. I have to go write Lucius.” Severus explained, giving her a quick kiss.

Hermione sunk from him back into her chair. “When you are done, I would like to read for a while.”

He stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow at her. “You can read without me.”

“Allow me to rephrase this. I would like to use you as a chair to read.” Hermione beamed at him, tilting her head up at him. 

He was clearly amused. “As my lady desires.”

  
  


It wasn’t long until they were tucked into his chair, each with their own book. Hermione draped across his lap, her head on his chest. Hermione would not tell it to him because he would resent it, but he made the best reading chair.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Professor Granger,**

**I know you wanted me to write to you once I got the position, but it has been so busy. I have learned so much about the Department of the Regulation of Magica Creatures. I got to see a sedated dragon. It was so beautiful. And I met a crup breeder who said she will let me buy one from her next litter.**

**Your boss misses you. Did you know they won’t let anyone take your desk? Everyone says it is for when you come back to work. Is it true that you are the one who set up the filing system? It is so easy to work!**

**I wanted to thank you, Professor, for everything you did for me this past school year. I can’t wait to see you next year. I’m bringing all my CD’s because even if you aren’t our Muggle Studies Professor, I still want to share my music with you.**

**Hope you are having a great summer!**

**Velma Jenkins**

  
  


* * *

**Miss Hermione Granger,**

**I am pleased to have gotten your owl back agreeing to meet with a client of mine. It seems you have been something of a rallying call for oppressed and abused wives. My caseload has never been this full.**

**Speaking of cases, I would like to have a prep meeting with you about your ex-husband's upcoming trial. We can do it the same day you come to meet my client if you like. Nothing overly intensive, just reviewing all the documents before I submit them to the courts.**

**I would also like to say that my offer was serious. If you ever decided that you wanted to take up Barrister's mantle, I would hire you instantly. I would hire you on as a legal aid and researcher today if it interested you—just something to consider.**

**Regards,**

**Barrister Kendrick Greengrass**

* * *

Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table, going over her mail when Severus came home from working with the Aurors. She didn’t get up as she finished her response to Mr. Greengrass.

“How was your day?” She called, dipping the quill in ink as she scribed out the address.

Severus, in his full teaching regalia, stepped into the kitchen.“Someone managed to succeed today.”

“That is good news.” Hermione offered, looking up as he walked toward her.

Severus reached into his robes, pulling out a roll of parchment. It looked like an essay and she furrowed her brow at him as he held it out to her. “I have something for you.”

“Oh, what is this.” She asked, taking the scroll into her hands.

“It is from Potter. If it is not to your liking, you do not have to accept it.”

“Harry wrote to me something this long?” Hermione had a hard time believing that. It looked like it was nearly two feet long.

Severus snorted. “He had proper inspiration.”

“What did you do?” She looked up at him suspiciously.

Hands up in surrender, he was smiling as if he was amused. “Do not look at me, it seems that Mrs. Potter stood over him until he did it.”

“Sounds like her.” It made sense if Ginny wanted Harry to do something while she was pregnant, nothing could stop her. Both times she was carrying the other two, Harry had been the most whipped man in the wizarding world. Ginny’s mood swings were legendary, and Hermione remembered once that she sobbed over a missing sock.

Severus broke her from her thoughts with a kiss to her forehead. “I will go get changed.”

“Alright.” 

  
  


* * *

**Hermione,**

**I am the biggest idiot that ever walked the earth. Like, if there was a planet of idiots, they would crown me king. Seriously, they would market me as King Idiot Potter.**

**I say this because it was a shite thing to so. I should have warned you before bringing you over. Scratch that, I should have not thought that getting you at the moment was the best idea. I should have waited like Ginny was trying to tell me when I rushed off to contact you.**

**How much trouble would I say out of if I listened to you and Ginny?**

**I apologize for hurting you and not thinking about your feelings. I should have thought about your feelings; what kind of friend does that. What kind of a friend says they will try to be mindful and then turns around and does the opposite. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed in my own feelings, I would have realized that this news would have hurt you. I should have known, and I didn’t, and take full responsibility for it.**

**My intentions were to keep the promise I made with Lily Luna, and it had not occurred to me that you would want me to break that promise. I didn’t want to see you heartbroken like you’d been before when you were the last to hear. I wanted you to be the first to know, because you asked me too and because you are important to me.**

**You are one of the most important people in the world to me. I know I don’t act like it as I should. Sometimes I’m a right fucking prick. Who knows why you’ve stuck by my side all this time.**

**But this letter isn’t about me feeling sorry about myself. It is about me telling you things you need to hear from me, as your best friend, someone who sees you as a sister.**

**I hurt you. Even if I didn’t mean to, I hurt you. And you are within your rights to write me off and tell me to jump off a cliff.**

**I hope you don’t do that.**

**Hermione throughout the years, you have always stuck by my side. You have sacrificed so much, and I don’t think I have ever told you how much I appreciate it.**

**The amount of times I would be dead if it wasn’t for your research and drive to protect me is countless.**

**Hell, you almost died more times than I dare recount as you helped me. The basilisk, the Black Lake, Department of Mysteries. Even when the scheme was crazy, or I wouldn’t listen to reason, you didn’t give up on me.**

**When you should have, when it was unsafe for you, you stood by my side.**

**No one in the world, not even my wife, can say they never walked away. Now, in her case, it was for her safety, and I was adamant, but in the face of danger, you never faltered.**

**All the things you gave up, and I never really took it into account how much you really suffered too.**

**And I don’t mean with Ron.**

**You lost your parents even with everything you did to protect them.**

**You gave up your education for me in your NEWT level year. Yes, it was to save the world too, but you could have said no. You could have fought in another way.**

**You are permanently scarred in battle and instead of worrying about yourself, you were more worried about the rest of us.**

**You had been tortured and still supported me while I grieved Dobby. Tortured. Sometimes I think you aren't really human but some kind of superwoman.**

**I remember the nightmares you would have in the tent. You weren’t screaming for yourself; it was never for them to let you go. It was for us.**

**I say all this because I know I don’t deserve a friend like you.**

**I have been selfish, I have doubted you, and I have abandoned you in your time of need. I know you say that its not my fault, but so much of what happened would have been prevented if I had been paying attention. If I had been the friend that I am supposed to be to you.**

**If you can find it to forgive me, I promise I will make the changes I need to. I swear I will be the friend you deserve.**

**I love you, Hermione.**

**Your King of the Idiots Best Friend,**

**Harry**

  
  



	74. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

Severus hadn’t read the letter from Potter. It wasn’t meant for him, and it was not his to judge worthy or not. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t wanted to. Residual apprehension that the dolt would say something to upset her again sat at the fore of his thoughts. It was Potter, after all.

Steeling himself for an afternoon of damage control, he descended the stairs. He did not hear the telltale sounds of Hermione crying, so it likely wasn’t that bad. Finding her where he had left her, Severus noticed that she was smiling, shaking her head at the kitchen table. Her glasses were pushed up on her head as she wiped her eyes.

“Are you sure you didn’t make him write this a wandpoint?” Hermione held up the unrolled letter.

Severus would have liked too, but he did not. “All I did was issue a demand that he write you a letter, the rest was up to him.”

“Here, read this.” Hermione laughed, shaking it at him.

Slipping into his seat across from her, he cringed at the familiar handwriting. He remembered how inarticulate Potter had been as a student and hoped it had improved with his transfer into the professional world. Skimming over the document, it really did seem like he was under duress when writing it. Mrs. Potter had a definitive hand in it.

As apologies went, it covered a great deal, and while Severus still thought it was very selfish to talk about himself in it so much, it was more than he had expected Harry to be capable of.

“He seems repentant.” Severus passed the letter back to her.

She was smiling as she laid it back down on the table.“I think he is. Harry is an idiot, a king of them, as he says, but his heart is in the right place most of the time.”

He was curious to know how she felt about his offer of regret. “Do you accept his apology?”

She folded her arms on the table, and Severus watched as a laugh seemed to dance through her dark honey eyes. Hermione looked as if she was about to involve him in some secret to which others were not allowed to be privy with the curve of her lips. “You will find that I cannot be angry at Harry for very long. I have been waiting for him to reach out so that I can tell him I forgive him.”

“You are too kind for your own good.” Severus sighed. “Then, I shall adjust the wards to allow him access again.”

“You had him barred from the house.” Her forehead wrinkled. Severus realized that she had not known that Potter had been barred from their home.

Severus nodded to her inquiry. “I told him quite clearly that until he was able to make amends, he was not welcome in our home to upset you.”

“His letters could have come through?” There was some apprehension in her tone that he could not place the cause for.

He fixed her with a concerned look, reaching across the table to touch her arm. “Yes, it would have forced him to ask permission to enter, if he had tried.”

More questions seemed to bubble forth in her very expression. “Could I have given Harry permission?”

“Of course. I keyed the wards to you shortly after you moved in.” He had thought that she had known this, as she was able to come and go as she pleased and did not have to fight the wards each time.

“Oh.”

With that word, he realized something he should have before. Hermione had not thought that he had established her as a part of the house. With the realization that he had barred her best friend from entry, it must have stirred some worry that he had shut her off from the world. Trapped her. Severus shook his head, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Have you thought that all this time, you’ve been a guest to the wards protecting the house?”

A shrug joined her obvious disconcert.“I hadn’t thought about it that much, but I suppose so.”

Lifting his eyebrow at her, Severus inclined his head to her. “You daft woman. What kind of man would I be to do that to you?” 

“I refuse to answer that.” A deep frown sunk over her lips.

“Probably for the best.” He knew immediately what kind of man would do that, and Severus would never be that man. “You can let whom you please into our home. All I ask is that I am prepared. I would hate to wander into the kitchen skyclad to find a gaggle of former students in my library.”

She erupted into laughter.“I think they would quickly expire.”

“You will find that I can be intimidating regardless of what I am wearing or not in that case,” Severus warned.

She mimicked his lifted brow. It was endearing her on face. “Will I?”

“Well, not you per se, but if such an event happened, I assure you, they would be the least worried about my state of undress.” It was a promise. Severus would happily scare the daylights out of someone that was in his domain when unwelcome.

Her hand placed over his on her arm. “I promise, no surprise visits.”

“It is in everyone’s best interest.” He agreed, turning his hand so that he could hold hers.

Severus found that physical affection with her came much easier now. It was almost a habit at this point to occasionally reach out to touch her. He suspected that part of his brain wanted to make sure she was real. She did not reproach him for either, and that soothed the small fragment that still dwelled on the fact that she could be a dream.

“Are you ready for dinner with the neighbors?” She grinned at him, her other hand moving to close the ink she’d been working with.

The question reminded him of something that he needed to do before such a gathering. “Yes, about that.”

“Are you canceling hours beforehand?” Hermione’s voice seemed disappointed.

If he had wanted to cancel, he would have done so earlier in the day. “No, I wanted to prepare you.”

“For what?”

“Mr. Richardson,” Severus said quietly.

Her fingers held his hand tighter.“Is he something I should be worried about?”

“No, more respectful of.” He took in a breath, thinking of how to best explain to her. “He was once an electrician, and several years ago, there was an accident, and he fell from a great height. It paralyzed his legs.”

Hermione brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh no, how horrible.”

“It left him chairbound, which is why you never see him. I know you have enough sense to not gawk at him, but I wanted to let you know what had happened, so you don’t ask unneeded questions.” Severus did not want her to be seen as rude, and he knew that with her inquiring mind, the need to ask might be more than she could contain. While the old man would likely indulge her questions, he could not imagine that he would want to rehash such a traumatic event over an evening game.

“Thank you, I’d rather not make a fool of myself.”

Severus rose from his seat, leaving her hand go. “Have my own post to attend to, and then, if it suits you, I would like some assistance in my lab.”

“Oh, you will let me come see your top-secret projects.” There was a string of amusement to the words.

He smirked. “If you are well behaved, I might even teach you how to make one of them. You can keep a secret, right?”

The way her eyes lit up at learning how to make something he was working on was worth it to him. The excited nod and slight bounce almost reminded him of a younger witch with her hand raised in the air. The notion that the know-it-all girlchild and this woman were one and the same still baffled him.

“I suppose you should write Potter back, or go see him before he thinks you don’t accept his apology.” He encouraged.

Eagerly, she rose from her chair, stepping into his personal space. “You will come to get me when you are going to the lab?”

“I will.” Severus agreed.

Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek.“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Severus watched as Hermione slipped around him, almost gleefully gliding into the library. An amused humph left him, and he moved to make himself a cup of tea before retiring to his study. Glancing over the kitchen table, which she used as an informal desk, Severus was reminded that he really needed to take the time to help clear that room out so that she could have a real study to work in.

It was a waste of space as it was, and he imagined it would make her feel more at home than she already did.

* * *

**Master Snape,**

**I have spoken to the Council, and they agree to your terms. The date you have suggested has been approved, as has the venue. I have to admit, the second week in August is prime for such a meeting. Well enough into the moon cycle to provide your friend with added strength, but not far enough to create undue issues.**

**I do have another interesting development. It seems that Miss Anadora seeks to speak with you. I am aware that she is in Azkaban. She is so embroiled in this situation that none in the Council will have her. It is a known fact that Azkaban is the only thing keeping her safe from the punishment she has earned here. It seems that her actions brought more attention than the Council wanted, and it was known that they were not approved by her liege. Such punishment for that crime is death, and not a pleasant one for the living.**

**I do not know what she wishes to speak to you about, but I would give you a warning. Do not trust her if you do indulge her request. She is acutely aware of her position and would likely say or do anything to ensure that her life is not forfeit.**

**She knows she has been thrown to the wolves, and I suspect she seeks you to implore you to sway the Council for mercy.**

**How you wish to handle it is up to you, of course, but I would let her rot if it were my soulmate that had been treated so.**

**With my highest regards,**

**Sanguini**

* * *

What had possessed him to let her help him make Panic Puffs? It was not that she was incapable of doing so; no, Hermione was an apt brewer and fast learner. It was that her nervous desire to please him and do it correctly had already burst two of the attempts. He was tempted to give her one, just to create them. Severus would have been more cross at her if she didn’t look so pitiful at ruining a second one. 

When the first pink and sticky concoction erupted, she had shrieked in surprise, and Severus had made the mistake of laughing at her. If looks could kill, he would have ceased to be on the spot.

This second eruption almost had her in tears. “I don’t understand, I feel calm.” 

“Yes, but what are you thinking?” Severus asked, flicking his wand to remove the mess from his attire.

There was a frustrated twitch to her nose.“That I don’t want it to burst on me.”

“As I explained, it is intention-based brewing. Instead, try thinking that it will not burst on you. Be assured of your success.” Severus instructed her, moving his hand over the cauldron that held the remains of the attempt.

“How many times did you ruin these?” Hermione asked him, using her fingers to pull a bit from her hair.

Severus made a face, drawn back to the winter break, where he spent so much time in his lab avoiding her. Countless times he found himself covered in this same concoction. He understood her frustration well. “For two weeks, I was sickened by the smell of Strawberries and Cinnamon from the failed attempts.”

“That makes me feel a bit better.” Hermione sighed, finally brandishing her wand to remove the rest from her hair and face.

“We have time to try once more, do you wish to?” He would understand if she said she did not; more than once, he had to walk away before he hexed the whole thing into oblivion. He should have known, however, that Hermione was determined to succeed.

“Of course.”

Severus turned to the lab table, eyes flicking from the table to the ceiling speckled pink. He tried not to smirk at the mess she was as well. Pink goo covered her still from just below her waist to her chin now. He assisted her with banishing it. “Allow me. Now, please start the base again while I clean this station.” Severus turned to his task of ensuring all of it was removed from the various surfaces. 

Free of the mess, she walked back to the other workstation. “I wish you’d been this involved when I was in school, I like you teaching this way.”

Severus paused, wand midair, head-turning toward her. 

“Well, things were different then, and I would have never indulged you in private lessons, too much speculation about impropriety.”

Hermione was not looking at him, and he watched her shrug while she ground cinnamon in a mortar.“I understand. It was just a thought.” 

“I hope that you find my teaching now— more involved.” There was a strong sense in him to have her say yes. He found that her opinion on this mattered to him, and not superficially so. Severus was overcome with the sensation that he needed to know what she thought. It was unfamiliar, and it startled him. 

_ Was he seeking her approval?... _

_ He had never seemed to care what others thought about his teaching before now… _

Hermione made a joyful noise, “You know I do. I love how you run your class, and your pupils come out more prepared for the real world than we ever did.”

“Amazing what having a proper educator in the classroom can do.” The words left him as the sudden tension that she might disapprove of his current ways dissipated.

“I suppose that is right.” The way that Hermione said it was different from the lightness in her voice just a moment ago. It was heavy with something else.

Severus moved to stand next to her. “I sense a change of mood.”

“I just reminded myself that I won’t be teaching there this year.” She sighed, pulling her hair back from her work and turning to him.

“Yes, you will,” Severus said resolutely. He would not spend a school year without her. The mere idea of it had him uncomfortable.

Her lips twisted skeptically. “Minerva has not gotten back with me.”

“Minerva is also on vacation and likes to hand things the last two weeks of summer hols,” Severus said, his hands going to her shoulders to ease her.

The lightness was back with a hint of realization. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“Not many do. Minerva enjoys her time away from the school as much as she does there. Do not fret over it.” Severus asked her, leaning his head against the back of her head. He would do what he had to ensure that she would not be left here in this house alone all summer.

One of her hands reached up and rested against the side of his face. “I won’t.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to her hair before leaning over her shoulder. He looked at what she’d been working on and snorted. “Also, you are supposed to be grinding that to a powder, not to coarseness.”

The sigh of exasperation was so loud it echoed in the old bunker.“I know, Merlin, go back to your station.”

* * *

**Severus,**

**Viktor and I would like to come over tomorrow afternoon. We have some things about the wedding that we would like to talk to you and Hermione about. Don’t worry, you won’t be roped into decorating or anything like that. My mother is already taken over, and there is no way she will let anyone else do anything. My father has suggested it is better to give her the mood for the event and colors and let her do the rest. I am also a touch jealous that Viktor has been at your house this summer more than I have if you can believe it, and it would be nice to catch up with the both of you.**

**If this is a pleasing arrangement, please let me know by this evening to plan accordingly.**

**Draco**

* * *

Severus sent off a quick response to his godson before he joined Hermione downstairs. He found her sitting in her chair, nose in the same book she had been reading for the past four days. She had her journal in her lap, taking notes as her eyes flicked over the text.

“I have no desire to be late.” Severus offered, plucking his leather shoes up from their place by the door.

She nodded at him, scribbling faster. “I am almost done.”

He knew better; 'almost done' could mean hours from now. “Yes, well, once I put my shoes on, I am leaving, with or without you.”

“I know, I know.” Hermione groused at him, her hand rushing over the pages of the blue book he’d gifted her.

Severus began to slowly pull his shoes on. He was going to give her a fair chance at the very least. After he laced the first, he looked at her with a smirk. “One shoe on.”

Hermione squeaked, flipping a page.“Give me a second.”

Still moving at a snail's pace, he pulled the other one on, watching as she furrowed her forehead, her hand scurrying across the page.

“I’m tying the second.” He offered.

Hermione slammed her book closed, looking at him like she had just run a race with the flushness of her face. “See, done.”

He tried to not look smug as he stood, looking over her journal as she closed it as well.“What notes are you taking.”

“I’m discovering my love language,” Hermione told him as a matter of fact as if he should have known this all along. 

He suspected he should have, as he recalled now that she’d told him this previously about the book. It also came to mind that she had suggested that he read it as well. “Is that the book you want me to read when you're done.”

“Yes, but I think I already know what yours are.” She got to her feet, straightening her clothes.

Curiosity piqued, he replied.“Now that will be interesting to compare notes on.”

Hermione seemed to ignore his comment, looking down at herself and fixing her shirt, pulling the hem of it down.“Do I look, alright?”

“Beautiful as ever,” Severus answered her.

She put her hands on her hips, sighing. “Honestly.”

“Honestly, you look fine for dinner at the neighbors.” He reaffirmed, not sure why she was so antsy about it. It wasn’t as if they were going to somewhere fancy or where she would be judged.

By the look in her face, it seemed she thought she might be.“Promise.”

“I swear it,” Severus answered, taking her hand and drawing her toward the door. “Now, let’s go before she thinks we’ve forgotten her.”


	75. Straight Flush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

Dear King of the Idiots.

I forgive you for being a pompous asshat. I know that Ginny coerced you into that letter, so I will spare you a long message in return.  I know you didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. You aren’t cruel, just an idiot.  Tried to pop by the house to tell you in person, but it seems you were out doing something.

See you later this week, yea?

All my love,

Hermione

* * *

On the outside, the neighbor’s house was the same drab grey as all the other buildings, but Hermione was amazed at the inside. The Richardson’s house was a kaleidoscope of color and art. Abstract paintings took up the bulk of the wall space and made the room feel larger than it was. It had the same layout as Severus’s house, except in reverse. It was disorienting to Hermione for there to be a sitting room, as she was so accustomed to their library. Everything was spaced widely, and Hermione surmised that it had to allow a wheelchair to navigate the home.

There was already a roast chicken on the table, and it made the whole house smell delightful. Hermione let Severus pull her chair out for her, and then he took the seat at her side. He must have sensed her nerves because he placed a hand on her knee under the table, a steady and robust presence.

Lue Richardson was not what Hermione had expected. Where Zoraida was a colorful and brightly dressed woman, he wore more muted colors. It was a visual contrast that interested her. And looks were deceiving because as soon as they began talking, it was clear to Hermione that this man had a vibrant personality. Severus fell into an easy conversation with him about the neighborhood's going-ons, and they both ended up laughing over some sort of regional joke that seemed to zoom over her head. 

She watched how relaxed Severus seemed in their company. But she was not left out of the conversation-- Lue was quick to ask her opinion of the neighborhood and involve her. When she explained that she was sure she would get lost if Severus had not shown her the way to the shop, they both seemed to chuckle.

When Zoraida joined them at the table with the rest of the meal, the conversation stalled, the quiet of a good meal being enjoyed setting over the table. Hermione remembered that her mother used to say at family gatherings that the food had done its job if the room was quiet.

Dinner came to an end, and Hermione was startled by the fact that Severus insisted on helping with the cleanup. Not that she thought he didn’t clean, but it was how he did it-- with gratitude that she did not understand because it was far more intense than she assumed dinner warranted. Mrs. Richardson relented, taking a seat as Severus walked into their kitchen with little sign of unfamiliarity. It was almost like witnessing a ritual that she knew nothing about.

  
  


“Alright, while he does that, why don’t we get out the cards,” Zoraida said, pulling out a wooden box. Mr. Richardson took it from her, opening it, and started pulling out piles of round disks.

Hermione looked at him, sitting up and gave a nervous smile. “I will admit, I am not really good at any card games. I didn’t have much time to learn.”

“Anyone can be good at cards, it just requires a good poker face and a bit of luck,” Lue said with a hum, not looking up from his task.

“Besides, I’m not good, and he still plays with me.” Mrs. Richardson rolled her eyes and then smiled at Hermione.

A belt of laugher left the older man. “Who else am I going to play with Aida? Besides, after 50 years, you are getting better. You beat me every once in a while.”

Hermione rose her eyebrows, looking between the two of them. They did not look old enough to have been married that long. Hermione had figured that Mrs. Richardson was in her 60’s. “You’ve been married fifty years?”

“Fifty-three, isn’t it love?” Lue said, looking up to his wife.

She nodded her head with a hum.“Mhmm, Fifty-four in March.”

“Impressive. That’s quite a long time.” Hermione said, watching as the older man continued to count the different colored disks.

Lue made a face as if he were telling her a secret, leaning forward toward the table. “Oh, believe me, it is. A long, long time.”

“Lue.” Zoraida tapped his shoulder.

His face lit into a smile, still conspiratorily whispering. “Aida will tell you it had been nothing but bliss, but don’t let her fool ya, being together this long, it takes some work and gives some headaches.”

“And requires patience.” His wife said, sinking into her chair next to him. “Will you shuffle the cards already.”

Mr. Richardson flapped his hand at her to make her patient with him.“The boy hasn’t joined us yet, give it a moment.”

At that moment, Severus rejoined them drying his hands. “It has been a long time since I have been a boy, Lue.”

“You will always be a boy in my eyes, Severus. Even when you get grey like me.” The man gestured to his head, grinning.

Zoraida shook her head. “He still calls Jeremy and Calien boys, so it’s not just you.”

“Jeremy and Calien?” Hemione inquired.

The brightly dressed woman grinned. “Our sons. Jeremy is about 5 years older than you, right Severus.”

“Six years, and Calien is 9 years older than me.” Severus offered, slipping his arm over the back of Hermione’s chair.

Her eyes moved from his arm to her face. “So, you grew up around them.”

Severus’s eyes met hers, and he dismissed the notion. “We were acquainted, they were much older than me, and we did not run in the same circles.”

The conversation was interrupted by Lue Richardson passing out the colored disks in piles. “Alright, Hermione, here are your chips. These are what you bet in each hand. We don’t play for money, just bragging rights here.”

“And he will brag about winning,” Severus spoke in a low tone that she assumed was just for her.

Lue grinned, starting to shuffle out cards. “First hand will be for you to learn, so no bets.”

“I will help you until you get the hang of it.” Once again, he was leaning into her, speaking quietly.

Hermione relied heavily on Severus’s assistance as they moved through the first few hands. It wasn’t that it was all that complicated, but she needed to learn what cards beat what. Severus did not show her his hand but continued to peak at her hand, offering her insight into when to fold and draw.

His arm was draped across the back of her chair, one of his legs crossed over the other. Severus seemed at ease as he glanced over the cards, his face showing no hint of anything unless he looked at her. It appeared that this poker game was something he was perfectly suited to.

Lue won the first hand and seemed to gloat a bit as he did. “Don’t worry, I won’t win them all.”

“Of course, you won’t. I am here,” Severus said calmly, offering the cards back to be shuffled.

Zoraida interrupted as she took her new hand of cards from the dealer.“Hermione has the chance of beginners’ luck.”

“Once she gets the hang of it, I feel she will give us both a run for our money.” Severus chimed in, and Hermione caught the smirk that he sent her way.

This seemed to amuse the old man, as he passed out the cards with a laugh.“Oh, he has a lot of faith in you.”

“I’m not sure if it is founded,” Hermione said nervously.

Severus took his cards in hand, shifting them from her view. “Well, either you will prove me wrong, or beat us both.”

The look he gave her was a clear challenge, and she crinkled her nose at him, taking her cards. “I suppose I shall have to try harder.”

“Perhaps.” He quipped, placing two of his chips into the center of the table. “Raise two.”

“Uh oh my dear, it seems like Severus is now playing for keeps,” Zoraida said, putting in two of her chips.

Severus smiled and looked at the older woman. “I know that Hermione reacts very well under pressure. But I will help her if she needs.” 

Hermione took his praise and looked at her cards, going over the combinations that he had told her were winners. When it came around to her turn, she put in the two that he had risen the pot and drew another card. Hermione watched as Severus leaned to look, and she tipped her cards to her chest, grinning at him.

His raised eyebrow and smirk had him leaning back in his chair, his hand still resting against the back of her chair.

She wasn’t sure if she was doing well or not, but she wasn’t going to let Severus know that. Stilling her face, she tried to look as blank as possible.

To her surprise, Hermione had ended up winning this round. Her flush had beaten Severus’s straight, Lues three of a kind and Zoraida’s two pair.

“Beginners luck it is,” Severus smirked, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As the game continued, Hermione found herself enjoying it. While she wasn’t beating anyone more than anything else, she was at least winning a few times. It was evident that the real competition was between Severus and Lue, as they seemed to zero in on each other with both witty remarks and bets. 

There was something there, a challenge unspoken, and it made Hermione wonder how this family had been featured in his life. There seemed to be a lot unspoken but respected there.

The final hand of the evening had been called, and Hermione looked at her cards. Zoraida had already folded, and Severus and Lue were looking at her. She was confident she had a good hand, and Hermione held it to her chest.

“Come on, let’s see who takes the pot.” Lue encouraged her.

Hermione glanced at Severus, and he grinned at her.

Laying her cards down on the table, she watched as they both made a face. She had the hearts cards in order, from four to eight.

“Oh, gents, it looks like you might be beaten.” Zoraida looked up over at the cards, smirking.

Lue dropped his cards, a spades flush, and Hermione looked at Severus.

With a look of pride, he put down his hand. It was a full house.

“Who won?” Hermione asked, still trying to remember which hands beat which.

Severus laughed and leaned forward, pushing the chips toward her. “You did, as I suspected you would have.”

“Next time, we won’t let you win.” Lue chuckled, gathering the cards up.

Severus shook his head. “If he was trying to throw the game to you, that is on him, but I assure you I was trying to beat you. I did not let you win.”

“Thank you.” Hermione leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Hermione passed the chips back toward Mr. Richardson as he began to meticulously put them in their slots.

The older man chuckled. “And now you have bragging rights, hold it over his head, will ya.”

Severus took to his feet, stretching his arms above his head.“We should get going, thank you as always, for dinner and hospitality.”

“Come round again, you know I never mind cooking for you,” Aida said, moving in to give him a hug. Hermione watched as he took the hug and returned the embrace.

“And I could always use a round of cards,” Lue said, fingers moving over the wooden case.

“You mean you want to try to beat me without distractions.” Severus extended his hand to Hermione, and she took it, letting him lift her to her feet.

Lue smirked and gave Severus a nod. “You won’t be so lucky without your charm at your side.”

She felt an arm slip around her waist gently. “Yes, well, I expect she will be at my side for some time. So get used to me having some more luck around. Good night Lue.”

Hermione said her goodnights and was squeezed into a hug by Mrs. Richardson, who whispered thanks for Severus's care. It made her feel great. Hermione liked these people and found that she was pleased that Severus had them in his life. She had come to see that the lonely existence that everyone had painted him into was a carefully curated lie that he seemed to orchestrate. 

Severus had friends and associates seemingly everywhere, yet, when it came time to handle something, he was always the one that was seen doing it alone. And it wasn’t for glory; it was almost as if he wanted to be the fall guy to protect those connections. As much as she knew about him, she found there was still more to learn.

* * *

Hermione was still reading her book the next day. Curled up in her chair, her eyes flickered over the notes she’d taken. At this point, Hermione was absolutely sure that her primary love language was acts of service. When she first came to this conclusion, she almost felt selfish, but the more Hermione read, the more she realized that it was not the case. Hermione didn’t want someone to do everything for her. She wanted someone who would be thoughtful of her and do nice things for her. 

The more she thought about that, the more she realized that Severus had been doing that all along. It was why she hadn’t been so cross when he was providing her with potions to help her appetite and sleep. In the beginning, she thought that he’d been ordered to do it, but once she learned he did it on his own, it took on that particular meaning of thoughtfulness.

It also stood out to her that her second preferred language was words of affirmation. She’d been surprised that it hadn’t been the first. But it meant to her when someone did something thoughtful for her than when they praised her. Marginally. It explained a lot, and Hermione found she was understanding herself as she continued on this venture.

The floo flashed green, and the guests that she’d been expected arrived. Setting the book aside, she rose with a smile. Immediately she was wrapped in a tight embrace, strong arms holding her close.“My skup, you look beautiful, your face so happy.”

“Hello, Viktor.” Hermione grinned into the hug. Once she was released, she gave Draco a decidedly less intense hug. “Hi Draco.”

“Hello Hermione, Severus.” Draco offered, nodding at the man as he walked into the living room.

Severus greeted them both.“Draco, Mr. Krum.”

Hermione hid her smirk as Viktor seemed to take a double-take at Severus's casual dress in his house. Viktor extended his hand to him.“Professor, thank you again for letting us come.”

“You may address me as Severus, Viktor, you are marrying my godson,” Severus said, shaking his head.

Viktor looked at him and nodded respectfully. “Yes, Severus.”

Severus turned and gestured for them to follow him into the kitchen. “Come, Hermione just made tea.”

“You look good, Granger.” Draco offered quietly.

It made her smile brightly at him. She felt good.“You too, how is planning coming?”

The face that Draco made told her that it was not as he thought it would be. Hermione could only imagine what a woman with the means of Narcissa Malfoy, and the personality could do to a wedding. 

“My mother has taken over everything. Between her and Viktor’s mother, I haven’t had to do more than give my opinion.” Draco explained as they walked into the kitchen. Severus had sat into the inside of Hermione’s side of the table.

Instinctively, she took her usual seat, placing her next to Severus. “I understand that. Did you give her colors, at least?”

“Oh yes, red and silver.”Viktor nodded, having sat across from Severus.

“No green. Surprising.” Severus inclined his head curiously.

Draco held up his hand as if he were warding off a protest that he’d already heard before. “It was compromised, I did not want a wedding to look like a yule party in green and red.”

“I see. And you are both wearing formal robes, I assume.” Severus asked.

Hermione felt his arm to shift to go around her shoulders. She watched as Draco’s eyes flitted between both of them, a sly smirk rising at the corner of his mouth. 

“As if we would think of anything else,” Draco explained.

Hermione chuckled. “Well, who is wearing white.”

It was Viktor who laughed the loudest, the booming sound reverberating off the walls. “Hermione, your humor is sharp too.”

“That happens when you spend time around Severus.” Draco hinted, elbowing his partner and directing his eyes toward Hermione’s shoulder.

Hermione felt his hand rest on her shoulder, and she leaned into his touch.

Severus offered a retort to Draco’s jibe. “I resemble that remark, Draco.”

There was an awkward sort of silence that fell over them, and it was Severus who broke it. “So, you said you wanted to discuss wedding things, and since you’ve already dove into the discourse, what is it you need?”

“Need isn’t the right word.” Draco offered. 

Hermione watched as Viktor and Draco shared a look; both of them seemed to ask each other questions with their eyes.

“What would be the right word, Draco?” Severus pried.

Draco said with a shrug, returning his gaze back to the two of them. “I suppose honor.”

Viktor cleared his throat. “Prof-Severus, Draco, and I have decided that we want you a part of our wedding.”

“As? I am not going to handle flowers.” The tone that Severus was firm.

Draco leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “No, I want you to stand as my best man.”

“Me? Your friends not willing?” It was not unkind how Severus asked the question. It was as if he was concerned for Draco.

Draco smirked. “I haven’t asked anyone else. Blaise asked me, but I would rather it be you.”

“I have no desire to be in the limelight that your wedding is going to bring,” Severus said, his arm unwinding from around her to cross in front of him. 

Hermione knew that it was not a definite no; it was a request for assurances. 

Draco seemed to know this too, as he leaned back, his arms now crossed. It was like a stand-off between the two of them. “Think before you say no. Go on, Viktor.”

Hermione was distracted from the two of them as Viktor reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “My skup, I want you to stand with me. It is you that brought us together, indirectly, and it is you who I want as my best man?”

“Really?” Hermione laughed nervously, her other hand covering her mouth. She had expected that Draco was here to ask Severus to be in the wedding, but she had never considered that Viktor would want her there too. It touched her heart, and Hermione felt like she wanted to cry. It meant that she was important to him, and while she knew it, the reminder warmth her spirit.

“Really,” Viktor affirmed.

Hermione articulated what she understood to be happening. “So, Draco wants Severus to stand with him, and me to stand with you. Will I be the only one in a dress up there?”

Draco shook his head, breaking his gaze from Severus for a moment. “You don’t have to wear a dress, Hermione, you can wear formal robes.”

“Now, I want to see you tell Narcissa that.” Severus barked with laughter.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his godfather. “I have, and she agreed.”

“Who else is standing up there,” Severus asked, looking between the two men who sat opposite of them.

Viktor answered with a proud grin.“My father and my uncle.”

“My father, and Goyle, obviously,” Draco said, returning to look at Severus.

Hermione was certain now that a wordless conversation was happening between the two of them. She gave Viktor’s hand a squeeze and wiped away the start of a happy tear. “I am so honored, Viktor.”

“Will you honor my joining with your presence.” Viktor seemed to plead with her.

“Severus?” Hermione said, breaking the stalemate between him and his godson.

Severus cleared his throat, nodding at her. “If you will, so will I?”

“Hermione?” Viktor asked, and Hermione knew the weight of all this was on her shoulders. While she didn’t really want to go back into the limelight after enjoying the solitude of being here with him, it would really be Draco and Viktor who were in the center of it.

Viktor’s eyes held so much hope and Hermione sighed. “I don’t know how I can say no to you with those eyes, Viktor.”

“Merlin, I know what you mean.” Draco teased.

Hermione nodded her head, smiling. “Okay, but don’t make me regret this.”

“Very well, you have me as well, Draco. I am not wearing anything ghastly. I do not care what your mother says.” Severus said, his arms uncrossing.

Draco agreed. “No, you will wear the same black you always have.”

“I will indeed,” Severus said, being the first to reach for the tea that was between the four of them.

Hermione watched as he poured her tea for her before pouring his. It made her beam at him. “Was that it, all you needed for us to do is stand with you at the wedding?”

“That was it, mother will be pleased,” Draco explained.

They drank their tea with small talk, and Hermione knew that Severus was not pleased with the idle chatter. While she never enjoyed it that much herself, talking with Viktor had never felt as if it was. 

As she took another drink of her tea, she remembered that there was something that she had wanted to show Severus.

“Viktor, can we show Severus what we’ve been able to do?”

Viktor looked at her with confusion for a moment. She watched as the gears turned, and it seemed to click into place. “Oh, of course, my skup.”

Hermione stood up, and Viktor faced her, placing his hands just under her arms. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. “One, two, three.”

Knowing it was coming, she inhaled as he lifted her feet gently off the ground. The nerves bundled in her chest, and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

“You are safe, you are safe, I shall not drop you.” Viktor coaxed her.

Hermione counted to five in her mind before she felt the wash of panic start.“Okay, down.”

“Very good.” Draco clapped. 

Hermione let out a shaky breath, pushing her hair back from her glasses as she nodded. She knew that Viktor had told Draco all about their progress because at first, Draco had been jealous of the time they spent together. As if Hermione was stealing his beloved from him. Hermione shook her hands out. “It’s not much, but I’m not screaming anymore.”

Severus stood now, his eyes watching her curiously. “May I try with you, Hermione.”

“Uh, yeah.” Hermione hadn’t thought to try it with Severus yet. Part of her was still worried about his shoulder, even though he had convinced her that it had healed. She didn’t want to be the reason he had to get it looked at again.

Severus’s hands grabbed her where Viktor had, and there was a warmth there that spread through her skin.

She closed her eyes, placing her hands on his shoulders before taking in a deep breath. “One, two, three.”

Severus lifted her off of her feet, and Hermione looked into his eyes.

“How do you feel.” He asked her, black eyes searching hers.

The panic was much more delayed like it was fighting against something. It was tingling around the edges of Hermione's body. “Like you would never drop me.”

“That is what I thought.” Severus smiled.

The panic was still persistent, and Hermione had been up much longer than she had with Viktor. She hadn’t even been counting. “But I would still very much like you to put me down now.”

He placed her on her feet, still smiling as he turned to look at Viktor. “Mr. Krum— Viktor, your help in this is admirable.”

“It is nothing, Severus.” Viktor nodded.

Draco stood up now, looking around the room. “Severus, your kitchen looks different.”

“You can think Hermione for that; her hard work went into it.” Severus praised her.

Hermione was still catching her breath, and she smiled in place of speaking.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with less small talk and more talk about things going on in the world that Hermione and Severus had been blissfully secluded from. Aside from the Prophet, which Hermione didn’t read much because of an ingrained distaste and the radio, they hadn’t heard much.

George Weasley had sold Ron’s share of stock to Draco to remove the association with the business.

Charlie had come home from Romania to be with his father, who had moved back into the Burrow. Viktor had known this because Fleur had sent him an owl saying that they would be coming to visit with the kids during the summer to help cheer everyone up. 

Draco’s club was doing well, and the changes to his security protocols had made the club more profitable. He’d noticed that more women were coming to the club to dance, and his bartenders had told them because they felt safer. He was considering opening another club in town geared toward a female audience because the club was reaching capacity most nights.

When Draco and Viktor started talking excitedly about Quidditch, Hermione mentally checked out.

Shortly after that, Severus was kindly asking the young men to take their leave, citing that he had critical work to attend to. They said their farewells in hugs and promises for tea another time.

When the two of them were gone, Hermione rose an eyebrow at Severus. “Important work?”

His arms swept around her. “I think spending some quiet time with you is important enough.”

Hermione wasn’t buying it. “You can’t stand them talking about Quidditch, either.”

“I cannot.” He sighed, leaning his head against hers. “Hermione. Would you like to make the second bedroom your office this weekend?”

“I would like that.” She agreed, giving him a kiss.

“Good, because I do not think I want you using the rest of the house as your office.” His hand pointed to the makeshift workplace she had made in the living room around her chair.

She looked at it and made sure to look suitable remorseful. “Oh, my apologies.”

After a few moments of her cleaning up, she found herself in his lap. Severus wasn’t reading, his eyes on the fireplace. Hermione could tell he was thinking about something, but she didn’t want to pry. If he wanted to tell her, he would. Instead, she tucked back into the book, her head resting against his shoulder.

Severus slid his hand up her arm. His head lowered, and he caught her gaze. “I have something I need to tell you.” 

Her focus was drawn from the book at how he sounded. There was a conflict in his tone, and it worried her. “It sounds serious,” Hermione said, noting his tone of voice.

He sighed and nodded. “It is in a manner of sorts.”

Hermione shifted, facing him and placing her hand on his cheek. “What is it?”

“I am going to Azkaban tomorrow to see Maria Anadora with Sanguini.”

  
  
  



	76. Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> Thanks CorvusDraconis who took time out of their hectic life to look over this before I posted it and gave me a freaking great idea for the final section. <3   
> Go read their work!

He’d been distracted all afternoon. Fortunately, Hermione was enraptured in her notes, so Severus did not have to worry too much about her questions. Not that he won’t answer them. They’d agreed, no more secrets and Severus desired to keep that promise. It didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it with her just yet—not when he didn’t have a plan laid out in his head.

That meant clearly knowing what he wanted from the situation. It had been a surprise to him to hear that Anadora had asked for him. Stranger even that she went through the Council than the usual channels. It was a ploy in some game she was trying to play. Severus wasn’t blind to that. 

However, that did not remove the merit that if she had asked for him, then the woman thought there was something to bargain for and with. As much as he trusted Sanguini, he knew they would not involve him in the details of their plots. Not when he so adamantly declared that his debt to the Council would be at an end once this meeting was over.

But Maria, she’d been in the thick of it, an agent in the manipulation and destruction of Hermione’s life. She would have to know more, have details that others were not privy to. Severus had said that he’d have placed her in Slytherin, and so this did not surprise Severus. His former colleague knew her life was in danger and knew that it would be from a deal if she had a snowball’s chance in hell at surviving. 

Desperate people made desperate deals. 

Severus had been one of those people once.

But that wasn’t why he had agreed. There was no pity or sympathy for the woman who screamed for Weasley to throw his beloved from the tower. No warm thoughts for a former colleague that lied to him and manipulated him for two years. 

In fact, there was much of the opposite. Of all the things Severus despised, it was being played for a fool. Of being led by the nose and being unaware of it. Even he had a hand in Hermione’s destruction, unwittingly as he delivered missives right into the claws of her ex-husband. No, the only warm feeling Severus had for Maria Anadora was anger.

So he mulled over the reasons, the choice words he had for her. While the primary goal for seeing her would be information, it had an added layer of him getting to air some of the grievances he had with her. He wanted to make her suffer, suffer in all the ways that Hermione had. Even as the Vampress had made her suffer one of the fates that they’d put his lover through, it wasn’t exactly enough.

Which was in part why he was bringing Sanguini with him. He trusted the man to temper him and prevent him from ending up in a cell next to the traitor. He would also help him sift truth from the lies she was sure to tell him. Nothing she said would be taken as truth.

They’d retired to his chair, a custom that he’d gotten accustomed to. While there was a perfectly good chair across from him, Hermione preferred his lap. If he were honest, he enjoyed the closeness. Hermione was still in her book, the one that he would be eventually asked to read. He stared at the fire, building the framework that he would push tomorrow’s conversation into.

The prospect of going back to Azkaban again so soon after being there for Weasley was not appealing. Though, he might stop by the ginger git and gently allude to the fact that Hermione was Severus’s. That she’d chosen him and that she was finally happy. Maybe some salt for the wound, if there was even one to begin with.

Absentmindedly, he traced his fingers over her skin. The flickering light of the fire sent the shadow of his fingers over her skin. He glanced at her eyes, seeing the brown orbs behind the lenses skipping over the words, her lips occasionally forming one as she went. Her mind was at work and it tugged at his gut. Intelligence was and would always be something that attracted him and she epitomized it at the moment.

Baser desires aside, Severus knew that he needed to tell her about his plans. His omission would seem like dishonesty to her. Likely, because it would be.

Hermione looked at him from the page, a smile flitting across her pink lips.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Severus said, his tone grimmer than he had planned it.

Brown eyebrows knit together and she lay the book across her lap. “It sounds serious,”

Agreeing with her observation, he inclined his head. “It is in a manner of sorts.”

“What is it?” She reached for him, her fingers touching his cheekbone.

With a great sigh, Severus spoke. “I am going to Azkaban tomorrow to see Maria Anadora with Sanguini.”

The concern in her eyes morphed into confusion, then fright followed quickly by suspicion. “Why?”

“Because she has asked me to meet with her through Sanguini.” Severus cupped her hand with his, holding it.

Her whole body shifted, growing tense.

Severus wanted to regret breaking the calm quiet within her but knew it was for the best.

“I don’t understand why that means you have to go see her?” Hermione questioned him, slipping from his lap to stand. 

Severus let her go, resting his hands on the arms of his chair. “She may know something we don’t and she may try to use that to bargain for something.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, moving to lean against the bookcase across from him.

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. “No?”

She bit her lower upper lip, looking away from him. Anger tensed along her jaw. “You are not making any kind of bargain with her. She is lying, deceitful, and tried to kill me.”

“I will not be offering her anything, but I want to know what she knows. Surely you can see merit interrogating an enemy before facing a threat they were involved in.” He offered, trying to determine the target of the anger. It could be him for going or Anadora for any number of things. 

He watched as she stomped her foot, something that he had learned signalled her frustration and anger. “And how do you know it isn’t the council trying to trick you through her?”

“I don’t,” Severus admitted to her, offering open palms as he shrugged. “Which is why I am taking Sanguini and meeting Potter there.”

Hermione looked thoughtful in her frustration. Her index finger moved to push up her glasses as she huffed. “You don’t want me to go with you, do you?”

“I do not. I have no desire for Anadora to be anywhere near you.” He said sternly. Severus had no desire for this woman to have a chance to torment or torture her. Maria had affronted him and had no power over his emotions if he did not want her to. He could not say the same for Hermione’s feelings. “She did not have the same dominion over my life as she had over yours. I will not let her harm you again.”

“What if she has nothing, or she lies.” Hermione moved from the bookcase, starting to pace in front of him. Brown eyes were narrowed at the floor as she moved as if they were subject to her ire.

Having already taken into account the fact that the woman would try to lie to save her skin, Severus delivered what he knew to be a reasonable explanation. “Then I have done nothing more than waste an afternoon of my time. However, if she has something that I can use to ensure our safety, I would be a fool to ignore it.”

She did not respond immediately, her arms crossed as she paced back and forth, glaring at the floor. 

He bid his time, waiting for her to balance out her own thoughts.

“I don’t agree with it,” Hermione grumbled, one hand moving to push her hair back.

Severus snorted, gesturing to her. “That I can see.”

Stopping in front of him, she sighed. “I want to try to stop you.”

“I sense a but in there.” He said, eyeing her over. Her face was pink with her emotions, eyes hard but calculating. The fire of the woman he loved was burning brightly behind those angry brown eyes. 

“But you are right. If Anadora can tell us something we don’t know, then maybe it might be worth it.” Her words sounded as if she were surrendering in defeat.

Tentative of her response, unsure if she was still heated, he extended his hands to her. “I am happy you can see reason.”

Hermione sat on his lap with a huff, a blend of petulance and frustration on her face. “Will you offer her clemency or freedom for her information?”

Jerking his head side to side, he explained that he would not. “Neither is mine to grant. I will not offer her anything but a dangle of hope that I may put in a word for her regarding her punishment. I want to see her punished just as you do.” His words seemed to have an effect on her. Severus observed as her shoulders relaxed and arms uncrossed.

“I don’t want you alone with her,” she ordered intensely.

Severus let out a muted chuckle.“I will hardly be alone at Azkaban.”

A morose look crossed her features and she took his hand in hers. “Barty Crouch was able to switch out his wife for his son under the watch of dementors, forgive me if I have little faith in this case.”

She had a point. A valid and well backed up point. It would do Severus no good to deny it and he could understand why she would fear his being alone with her. Not out of some sense of jealousy, Hermione had nothing to be jealous of in his mind, but of safety.

“I will ask that Sanguini is at my side during the interrogation.” It was an offering of appeasement to her worries.

Yet it was not seemingly enough. 

“And Harry?” Hermione probed.

With a great sigh, Severus rubbed his forehead, nodding. “And Harry, if it will ease your mind.”

“It would. I know you are capable of taking care of yourself. If something happened to you —” Hermione began, but Severus cut her off.

It was something they both feared — the fear that the other would be hurt.

“I know, I feel the same way about you.” Severus slipped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest.

She did not resist. Instead, she slid her legs so that she was sitting over Severus's lap facing him. “You’ll tell me what she says?”

“Of course.” Severus agreed without hesitation. “No more secrets.”

It was as if her brown eyes were inspecting him, seeking to ensure that he was not duplicitous with her. Severus did not resist or shy from her gaze, calmly affirming with his features that he would tell her the truth.

It seemed she accepted it as she leaned her forehead against his. “I don’t like this.”

“I know, but it must be done. I will not turn away a chance to ensure we are safe.” Severus agreed softly, his hands moving over her back to coax the tension away.

She snorted as if she didn’t believe him.“Safe, from her?”

“You are safe from her now, but those she worked with and for are still out there.” His belief was that all the elements after her happiness and life had not been subdued with one night’s victory. Instead, they’d done what anyone with sense would do: go underground, hide, and plan for a moment to strike. Severus hoped to prevent that from happening.

They stayed there for a while, foreheads pressed together in quiet contemplation. Hermione let her shoulders drop, her voice resigned. “Alright.”

“Why do you say that like you are giving me permission.” He teased her, hoping to bring some levity to the situation that was not ideal.

“Because I am.” Hermione chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips.

He craned his head back to look at her incredulously. “Oh, is that so?”

The smirk on her face belied that she was taunting him as well. “Yes, it is. I give you permission to go.”

“Well, I don’t need it.” Severus tilted his head to the side in a challenge.

Mischief crossed her face. “Well, you got it anyway.”

“Insufferable know-it-all,” he groused at her.

Hermione leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.“But I’m still your insufferable know-it-all.”

“Mine.” He agreed, slipping his hand up to her hair. 

It was like a match, sparking in a room of kerosene. The whispers of desire from before were materialized to the fore of his mind. Severus pulled her into another kiss, this one longer than the soft pecks of before. A pleased groan left her, slipping into his mouth, and he relished it. His other arm drew her tightly to him, no space between them than their clothing. 

Her hands were in his hair, distracting him with their comfort as Hermione took hold of his bottom lip between her teeth. A rumble of a groan radiated through his chest. She looked into his eyes, grinning. “Mine.”

“Yours.” Severus agreed, recapturing her in a heated kiss.

Sliding his hands under her shirt, his thumbs ran along the bottom of her ribs. Severus felt her shudder under the touch. Slipping from her kiss, he trailed his nose along her jawline, planting soft kisses along the skin. Her hand was cupped around the back of his neck, fingers flexing against his scalp. It was the encouragement he needed as he began to lavish the skin of her neck with his attentions. 

Hermione hissed in pleasure when he nipped at her skin before soothing it with a kiss.

“Do you know I fantasize about this chair?” Her words were heated and scandalous whisper.

Severus nipped at her neck again before answering her lowly. “The chair, or me in this chair.”

Hermione laughed breathlessly in his ear. “The chair—obviously, I am leaving you for your chair.”

He used his nose to push aside the collar of his shirt so he could trail kisses along her collarbone. 

“It has been loyal for many years; it will not let you down,” Severus rumbled over her skin. 

Her whole body tensed and shivered. “How can you make that sound sexy?”

Severus smirked, lowering his voice to a husky whisper. “I’m not sure what you mean? Does my talking about my faithful armchair do  _ something _ for you?”

He enjoyed feeling her shiver under him again, illustrating for him exactly what his tone of voice was doing to her.

“You could read the  _ encyclopedia _ aloud and it would do something for me.” Hermione panted, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

Severus drew back as if he was going to look for the said book on the shelf. “I shall have to test this.” 

“Not right now.” She pleaded.

He took her in. Lips wet with their kiss, skin flushed, eyes heated with desire. Severus smirked, leaning to put his lips right by her ear. In the lowest, richest tone he could manage, Severus teased her. “Very well. I’d much rather talk about you,  _ Hermione _ .”

“Fuck,” Hermione gasped, the hand in his hair fisting and turned as her back arched under his hands.

Severus got a sinful idea about precisely what he wanted to do to her at this moment. “I would like to see what saying your name does to you.”

Breathlessly, Hermione questioned him. “How?”

Her interest in the endeavour made him smirk. Pressing a kiss just in front of her ear, he chuckled. “Will you indulge me? To your limits, of course.”

“Yes,” Hermione gasped at him.

Severus put his hands on her hips, sliding her back off him and away from her. Her eyes searched his for some kind of answer. He did not let her linger in her confusion for long. “Turn around, sit on my lap with your back to me.”

Hermione did as he asked her, him guiding her to where he wanted her. His hands slid over her stomach now, under the shirt that was in his way more than anything. It would be something he dismissed in a moment once he knew she was comfortable.

Her head lulled back against his shoulder as his hands slipped up higher over the cotton of her bra. Severus huskily established her role in her ear. “You have  _ all _ the power and control over what I say and do; I stop when you say when I stop—and do more when you want _ more _ . I am at  _ your  _ command.”

“Alright.” Hermione nodded, her breath already coming in quicker.

Severus pressed his thumbs under the cups of her bra, finding her nipples already pebbling from her arousal. “Good.”

Wordlessly, Severus banished the clothing covering her upper body. His hands sought her breasts, thumbs rolling over the peaks as he kissed her throat. She arched against him, pressing the globes into his palms as she hissed.

“Your breasts are perfect,  _ Hermione _ . Just the right size for my attentions.” Severus punctuated his words by plucking one of her nipples between his fingers, tugging gently.

She gasped. “Merlin.”

“Not my name, love.” Severus rumbled in her ear, his hands working over her skin. He could feel her flexing and tensing with the pleasure he was giving her.

Hermione moaned when he tugged at both of her nipples. “Severus.”

One of his hands relinquished its claim on her breast to slid down over her skin. Flexing his fingers, he massaged his way down her body. “ _ Hermione _ , you are the most exquisite woman I have ever met. Do I have your permission to proceed farther south?”

Her head nodded against his shoulder.

Severus lowered his mouth to the skin of her shoulders, kissing and sucking as he slipped his hands under the fabric of her pants. He thanked Circe internally that she was in her lounge pants and not denim. It would be far more challenging to do this.

Severus cupped her sex with his hand, pulling her hips tightly back to him.

His reward was a shaky hum of pleasure from her lips.

Moving his mouths ministrations from her shoulder to her earlobe, Severus nipped at it before whispering again. “ _ My _ Hermione, so beautiful, so  _ intelligent _ , so  _ sexy _ .”

Slowly, he explored her folds. Long fingers slipped through her slit, mapping her and touching her in ways that he had yet to be able to. Lust and primal desire were rising in him and he knew there was no doubt that she could feel his growing erection pressing into her back.

She was trembling under his touch. Severus beckoned her to continue, one hand still teasing her breast while the other slid over her sensitive skin. 

“How I  _ desire _ you, Hermione. It makes me  _ weak for you _ .” Severus punctuated his words by running his index finger over and around the bundle of nerves at her core.

Her hips jerked, back arching from him. One arm had slipped up around his neck, fingers pressed against the back of his head as her other and gripped the arm attacked to the hand pleasuring her.

Continuing his venture, Severus pressed his thumb over that same spot, gently smoothing circles over her clitoris.

“More,” Hermoine moaned with abandon.

“As you wish.” Severus rumbled a growl in her ear. Adjusting his hand, he slipped a finger into her. She was so wet already that there was no resistance. A second finger joined the first and he flexed his hand, stimulating her bundle of nerves while fucking her with his fingers. “How is that?”

Her knees were spread wide now over his, her eyes closed as she panted his name. “Severus.”

He was so hard against the constraints of his pants. Hermione's words went from his ears right to his groin. It was time to test the waters on what she liked to hear. Severus’s growled into her ear, arousal heaving on his voice. “Yes, I love it when your lips are wrapped around my name in your passion. It goes right to my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” She gasped and he felt her walls clamp down around his fingers.

He huffed into her ear as he continued his motions. “I felt that, Hermione. You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you.” 

“Fuck—yes. It should be illegal,” She keened, turning her face toward him.

Severus slipped the hand from her breast to her cheek, drawing her into a kiss. All the while, his fingers worked her body into a rocking frenzy. His tongue conquered her mouth, slipping past her teeth as she vibrated against him.

Hermione snatched her head away, sucking in a great gasp of air as her body clamped down on his fingers again.

“You are so wet and so close. Are you going to cum for me?” Severus purred, panting into her ear.

Her ability to verbal eloquence was obviously diminished in the wake of her passion. “Mm goin’ to.”

Severus took up her nipple again, plucking and massaging her nipple as his other hand rocked into her with vigour. He felt her quivering under his hand, and he curled his fingers up. The pad of his middle finger touched on the spot he was seeking, and Hermione let out a screech.

“Cum for me,  _ Hermione _ , my love,” Severus breathed into her ear.

Her heels were digging into the outside of his calves as she jerked her hips with his movements. Years of working with his hands allowed him the needed endurance to continue on, even when his wrist began to complain from the angle. He would not stop until she came undone under his hand, or she told him to stop.

Severus felt her go rigid against him, her hips arching back. The first clamp around his digits told him she was at that point before she began crying out.

“Fuuu—Severus. Shit, shit, shit, I’m coming!” Hermione gasped, her head thrown back.

Severus urged her on through the orgasm, fingers pressing up into her. “Cum for me, love. Cum for me, Hermione.”

Hermione jerked against him. 

He had to slip his hand from her breast around her torso just so that she didn’t throw herself off of him or break his wrist. He didn’t stop until she was no longer shaking and she was limp against him.

Severus withdrew his hand from her, pressing a kiss to her sweaty cheek. His wrist ached and he rotated it as he continued to hold her close. “So perfect,” he breathed against her shoulder, placing coaxing kisses there.

“I do not think I have legs.” Hermione’s voice cracked as she tilted her face toward him. A hazy look was in her eyes and she smiled softly.

Kissing her brown hair, he chuckled. “I assure you that you do and I shall have bruises to prove it.”

“Did I hurt you?” She tried to lift up to look at him.

Severus continued to brace her against him. “Not at all. Did you enjoy that?”

“Mmhmm, I did.” Hermione grinned, sinking into him.

Severus brought his clean hand to her face, tracing her jaw “No panic, no fear?”

“A little, but nothing that couldn’t be chased away by your voice.” The tone was pleased and warm. 

He liked the sound of satisfaction in her voice more than other tones he had ever heard her use. Severus closed his eyes, leaning his head against her as he caught his breath. “I am pleased that I did not frighten you with my—verbiage.”

“If you can say cock, you can say dirty talk.” Hermione laughed, her hands resting on the one around her waist.

Sighing, he tucked his nose behind her ear. “Very well, I am _ pleased _ that I did not scare you with a bit of  _ dirty _ talking.”

“I liked it, actually.” She didn’t try to hide the shiver that his words elicited.

Severus chuckled. “I never would have guessed.”

“Liar.” Hermione hummed, running her hands over his arm.

Severus continued to lean against her, working on lowering his heartbeat and willing himself to calm. He was still hard, which he was reminded of every time she shifted. Planning on dealing with it later, he inhaled deeply.

As if she were purposefully counterproductive, Hermione shifted herself across his lap again. 

A groan escaped his throat, rumbling past closed lips.

“I think you liked it too.” Hermione teased him, rolling her hips again.

Severus tilted his head back against the chair, closing his eyes and counting. “My beautiful woman came undone on my lap, only a fool would not have enjoyed that.”

Hermione said quietly. “And you are no fool.”

“I am not.” Severus agreed.

His hand was lifted from her waist and set to the side. Her warmth abandoned him as she got up. Severus opened his eyes to see her on her knees, looking up at him, still topless. Her hands splayed over the thighs of his trousers. It was a sight to behold for sure. Desire rolled into his groin, the hard work of calming down being forgotten at the sight.

But he would not give in to his base desires if she considered this some obligation or duty. That was not how their relationship was going to work if he had anything to do with it. Severus was more than capable of handling his own pleasure and would do so happily to keep her from thinking that it was expected.

Placing his hand on hers, he shook his head. “Hermione, you don’t have to—”

“No, I don’t have to. I want to.” She interrupted him, her other hand still sliding up his leg.

“Are you sure?” He swallowed, exhaling to exert his control over himself.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, a harrowing change from the lustful brown they were before. “Severus, will you stop denying your own pleasure for one moment and let me take care of you.”

“I only wish to make sure you are comfortable.” He explained, removing his hands that had stopped hers.

That hand joined the other on the ascent of him as she smiled at him once more. “I have all the power. Remember?”

His eyes fixated on her hands as they slid to his inner thigh, where he was straining against the clothing. “You do have all the power.”

“Then let me use it,” Hermione whispered. “Please. Can I?”

Severus could not have denied her when she asked him like that. “As you wish, but know if you need to stop, please stop. I will not be mad.”

Severus watched as she worked her fingers over the button and zipper of his pants. His body was tense, not just from arousal curled at the base of his spine and balls, but in concern for her. His hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“Relax,” Hermione breathed out. 

His eyes met hers, brown orbs beckoning him to trust her. Imperceivable, he gave her a nod. What he had expected was that she was going to try to pull him from his trousers. What he got instead was a rush of cooler air and the relief of freedom as she banished his pants and trousers. Closing his eyes and not daring to open them for fear of judgement or something to go wrong, Severus leaned his head back. Even with all they had been through, there was still a part of him that worried she would judge him.

Her hand took hold of him and he had to suck in air through his teeth as the temperature difference. This was different than her dry humping him to completion in the dark bedroom. This was her hand on his skin, on his member. Severus slid his hips forward, giving her better access as he felt her start to move her hand. 

“You really enjoyed what you did to me.” He felt her breath wash over him, causing goosebumps to rise along his thighs.

He nodded. “I was not lying, I desire you.”

Fingers coiled around him and he felt her thumb run over his glans, sending fire through his gut. The fear of her judgement went to the wayside when he felt her hand cradling his balls. Jaw slacking as the pleasure ran over him, Severus looked down at the breathtaking scene in his lap. It was something that he thought he’d never see and because of that, he committed it to memory. Hermione was leaning between his spread legs, her breasts exposed, hands on his cock and looking up at him with those brown eyes behind glasses. 

He twitched in her hand from the sight alone.

“You like that?” She asked him, biting her lip.

Words failed and he could only nod as she squeezed him firmly, stroking upwards.

She gave him a wicked smile and Severus, for a moment, feared for his very soul. “Is it true what you said to me?”

“What?” He croaked as she continued the motions with her hands. It was slow and firm. Not enough to be painful, as each movement of her hands sent another signal of pleasure through him.

Hermione’s voice was low and breathy. “That you loved the sound of my lips wrapped around your name?”

“Yes.” It nearly squeezed the air out of him as she spoke.

“Severus,” she purred.

In amazement, he watched as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his cock. His fingers dug into the chair as he hissed a breath. His heart was pounding in his ears now, blood flow all directed in the southern direction.

“I was never fond of this,” Hermione breathed over him, sending shivers up his spine. “But I want to try with you. For research.”

“You don’t have to.” He managed to groan out, only to be silenced when she took him into her mouth. Beyond that, there was no way he could argue with her. If she wanted to suck him off for research, he was going to thank the powers and shut the hell up.

Severus took his hand and moved her hair to the side. It was all he could do as he felt the moist heat of her mouth moving up and down over him. It wasn’t expertly done, but it was her doing it because she wanted to, and that was all that mattered to him. 

He lost his breath, panting with her movements. He had already been so hard, there was no way that he was going to last under this kind of attention. Tensing his thighs, he willed himself to not jerk up into the heat of her mouth, no matter how much his body wanted to.

The hand on his base gripped him, sliding in time with her lips. He felt everything in his sink lower, his bullocks pulling up close to his body. If he didn’t warn her now, it would be too late. His hand in her hair tried to pull her back from him as his hips jolted upward.

“Hermione. Stop. I’m going to—” Severus’s words faded into a groan of pleasure. He felt himself explode just as she released him, the messy result of his orgasm falling on his legs instead of her. His head fell backward, eyes closed, his body trembling from the release. 

“I love you too,” she hummed. “Not that bad as far as experiments go either.”

Severus felt her leaving his lap once more. He didn’t have the will to look for her at the moment; everything still raw and thrumming. Magic touched his skin and the wet feeling was gone. Gratitude for the cleaning spell died on his lips as he felt her gingerly climb into his lap again. 

Drawing his arms around her, Severus held her as everything worked on centring again. Her head was on his chest and he was sure that she felt his heart bashing against his sternum. 

They lingered like that until the world righted and Severus could breathe evenly. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her.

“Are you ready to sleep?” He had to swallow to speak, his mouth dry from the effort.

She nodded against him, sitting up from leaning against him. “I think so.”

Hermione was still topless in his lap, and he took a moment to admire her before smirking at her. “Was it what you imagined?”

“Hmm?” She rubbed her eyes, confused.

Severus leaned into her space, speaking softly. “Your fantasy about my chair?”

“Oh, that wasn’t my fantasy.” Hermione cackled deviously.

He rose an eyebrow at her, tilting his head to the side. “I am interested in hearing it then.”

That devilish smile was back, and Hermione pressed a kiss to his lips. “Maybe another day, I will tell you, just before I do it.”

“I wait in anticipation.” Severus yawned, stretching his arms up above his head.

Hermione pushed her hands against his chest. “Don’t yawn, now I am.”

Ensuring that the house was locked up and wards set, they ascended the stairs together, still half-dressed. They had parted to do their nightly rituals and change clothing. It was an early night for the both of them, but Severus had a long day ahead of him tomorrow.

Holding her in the dark of their bedroom put him at ease about the whole ordeal. No matter what happened tomorrow, he was coming home to this. To her.

“Severus.” She whispered, her fingers running over the palm of his hand.

He hummed at her in response.

Hermione’s voice was hushed as she spoke. “I think I’m not afraid anymore.”

That got his attention and he lifted his head, looking over to her face. “Really?”

Hermione turned in his arms so that their eyes met. “At least, not like I was. I still feel that bit of panic in my gut. But ever since—”

“—Since our soul bond?” Severus finished her sentence.

Hermione reached in the shadows and he felt her fingers on the side of his head. “Since that night, I just know I’m safe.”

“You were safe before it. I would never take advantage or willingly hurt you,” Severus promised her, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

She made a soft sound. “My heart knows that now too.”

“Good.” He whispered, laying back down and pulling her tighter in his embrace. A feeling of warmth settled over his heart in knowing that Hermione felt safe with him and could say it aloud. 

Severus felt grateful that they’d been given a second chance. That they had repaired and restored what had been severed and shattered years ago. This life was something he never expected to see, much less deserve. After he had hurt her so badly so many years ago, he would have understood if she had never forgiven him or trusted him again. 

Everything he had done up to this point had been worth it because she was no longer afraid of him, of being with him. 

  
  
  
  
  



	77. The Prophecy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's. Yes, I know, Second Severus in a row. But I needed these two things to be seperate.
> 
> Thanks to the amazing CorvusDraconis who took time out of their hectic life to look over this before I posted it and spared my knees when I really did not deserve it. <3

Even through the wool, he could feel the chill. It was a different kind of cold, the one that sunk into your bones and froze your blood. Every surface was kept damp and uncomfortable so that there was no way to escape the place's icy feeling. The air reeked of desperation, sorrow, grief and madness: pain and haunted voices lilted through the air, like music most macabre.

Severus hated Azkaban.

The echo of his footfalls bounced off the blue slate stone with magic sigils that made up the hallway. Blue light ran through the deep grooves of the sigils carved there. A temporary Patronus meant to only alleviate some of the dread for those passing through the hall. The Warden walked ahead of them, his arachnid Patronus skittering across the floor before him. Sanguini walked to his left, slightly behind by one step. 

If Severus wasn’t so intent on both his destination and his own sanity, then he would have inquired how this place affected him. Perhaps after they left and were no longer under the influence of the dismal surroundings, they could talk about it. The inquisitive side of his mind wondered if this place felt pleasant.

“To your left,” Sanguini whispered, barely an octave above a breath.

Severus tilted his head in that direction, spotting what his companion had spied. The mop of unkempt red hair was the only thing that looked recognizable on Weasley. His face was gaunt and pale, skin filthy, and much of the muscle mass that had been the bulk of the man was lost. 

The Warden stopped, turning to see why both Severus and Sanguini had stopped. 

Severus moved toward the bars of the cell, standing well out of arm’s reach as she addressed the man behind them.“Mr Weasley.”

“Snape?” Weasley’s eyes blinked as if for a moment unbelieving of what he was seeing. It was brief as those eyes then narrowed, dirty fist clenching at his sides.

Severus sneered, crossing his arms as he looked down his nose at the man. “Ah, so you do still have your faculties.”

Weasley squared his shoulders, obviously capable of more thought with the safety of the Warden’s Patronus near. “I’m not barmy yet. Why are you here?”

“To interview your mistress,” Severus said flatly.

The redhead snorted, shaking his head. “Pfft, Maria? She’s not my mistress anymore.”

“Yes, I suppose it is hard to have conjugal relations with so many dementors and bars in your way.” He was not impressed. Severus understood the anger that could boil once the pressure of the dementors was withdrawn. He’d experienced it himself, seemingly in another lifetime now, when the Potter boy had stopped the Dark Lord the first time. Still, Severus did not like how much the young man seemed to cope after sitting and rotting in this hell for nearly half a year.

It seemed his thoughts were echoed by the Warden, who moved the ethereal blue spider farther down the hall. The warmth of the Patronus withdrew from him as well, but being on the outside of the bars still afforded him the walls' protection.

Weasley’s temper waned. “What are you talking to her about?” 

“She wished to see me,” He uttered nonchalantly. 

The man’s lips twisted in thought, some of the dull idiocy fading under concentration. “Hmm. Bargaining for her freedom?”

It was Severus’s turn to snort. “Even if she tried, I don’t have that power.”

Weasley seemed to accept this, nodding his head. His shoulders were no longer straight; they rounded in defeat. His eyes seemed to deepen, and Severus watched a morose expression settle on thin lips. Since he was a child, he’d known Ronald Weasley; he knew many of the expressions of the moronic friend of the boy wonder. This one seemed to hold some measure of regret. “How is she?”

“I’ve yet to see Miss Anadora.” Severus rolled his eyes.

Weasley made a noise, clearing his throat. “No, I meant Hermione.”

Before Severus could speak, Sanguini was between him and the bars, snarling out words that were weighted with vitriol. “You have no right to even say her name after what you did to her.”

“Sanguini,” Severus implied concern with the man’s name, mindfully placing his hand on the man’s shoulder.

Sanguini took a step back, bowing his head. “Forgive me, this place gives more credence to my darker nature.”

Weasley had taken several steps back from the door of his cage. “What’s he doing here?”

“Not your concern,” Severus warned, turning back toward the redhead. “I will, however, indulge your question with a response. Hermione is doing wonderfully. I have never seen her happier. She is healing well from the cruelty which you served her indiscriminately, and she is flourishing. We are getting on splendidly.”

Severus could see the pain in the man’s face. 

Weasley winced as he uttered his question. “So you are together?”

Severus smirked proudly as he gloated more over the man. “We are. She lives with me, and it is a permanent arrangement as long as she desires it. Unlike you, I don’t have any notions of locking her away from the world or causing her harm.”

“If you are trying to torment me, you are going to have to do better than that Snape; the Dementors would call that a warm-up.” A freckled hand gestured toward the barred window where his jailors lingered.

The chill had settled in a bit deeper under his skin, but Severus still felt warmth as he thought about Hermione. “Mr Weasley, if I wanted to hurt you, I would be on the other side of those bars, finishing what was started in the tower. However, I have Hermione to go home to, and there is nothing worth jeopardizing that. You were a fool, Ronald, you had perfection and you tried to destroy it.”

“You sound like you are in love, Snape.” Weasley began to laugh.

Severus looked at him pointedly. “I am. And one day, when she is ready, healed from your cruelty, and willing, I am going to ask her to marry me so that I can continue to show her what it really means to be loved. To be cherished, valued, and to have a partner who is her equal in all things. Something you were incapable of providing her.” 

The frown on the pale face deepened, something hitting a nerve. Severus felt satisfaction in it. He wanted Weasley to suffer, to ache and hurt for his crimes.

“I tried. In the beginning, I tried.” Ronald seemed to be trying to convince Severus.

He was having none of it and spoke over him. “You will, however, rot in this cell for the rest of your days, or, if I am lucky, I can finally watch a Dementor’s kiss as they draw your wretched soul from you.”

Nodding in agreement, the ginger put his face in his hands. “Maybe both of us will be lucky in that regard.”

Sanguini had moved closer to the Warden and his spider Patronus. “Severus, we shouldn’t tarry longer.”

He had to agree; taunting Weasley was not the real mission here. It was an added benefit. “True, I’ve wasted enough time.”

Severus turned toward his companion, fixing his frock coat with his hands. In step now with Sanguini, he tried to put his witch’s ex-husband out of his mind.

“Snape!” Ronald called to him.

Severus stopped, turning his head enough to see that the man had pressed his face against the bars. “Mr Weasley.”

“She is going to try to use you, I know it.” It was said like a warning.“—as much as you hate me, I hate her, don’t trust a thing she says.”

Twisting his lips, Severus turned his head away from the man as he spoke. “In order to hate you, I would have to care. I do not.”

The Warden seemed to chuckle at this and began to lead them toward their destination once more. Stalking down the angled blue-tinted halls, Severus did not spare looks into the cells behind dark bars. There was nothing and no one here that he wished to see. His mind was on the conversation to come, the discovery of what this woman wanted and thought she had to offer for it.

Stopping in front of a door, the Warden unlocked it with a glowing key. “You may cast your Patronus in here, Snape. If she gives you any trouble just say the word, and she’ll be wishing she hadn’t.”

Nodding his gratitude to the Warden, Severus entered into the room, flicking his wand out from his sleeve. Once inside the room, he summoned the energy to cast the Patronus spell and chase away the place's intense dread. He sought happiness in his memories. There was more to be had now, as Hermione’s smile slipped through his mind. An image of a coffee mug filled him with joy and he cast the spell. Familiar blue magic wisped from his wand, yet, it did not take on the form that he knew so well. Instead of his doe  _ -lily’s doe- _ , a lean lioness stood in its place. Severus contained his shock, his lips thinned. While he had known that a Patronus could change in a wizard’s life, he had not expected to happen to him. Severus compartmentalized the feelings that arose from this change as something to deal with later.

Sitting on a bench along the far wall, Maria Anadora looked at him with curious eyes, her head tilted to the side as she looked over the blue beast that took to lying on the floor. 

Severus said nothing, taking a seat in the chair he’d been provided, waiting for Sanguini to do the same.

Harry Potter entered the room in a flurry, silently apologizing for his tardiness. It was impossible to miss the look that Potter made when his eyes fell on his blue lioness. 

Shaking his head, Severus hoped that it would not be something discussed now. It was not the reason for being here.

The three men sat down, looking at the woman who had yet to say a word. Severus was going to wait her out; if she wanted to see him and speak, then she would have to do so.

She took a breath in and her face took on softer lines.“I hoped you would come. I am glad you agreed to see me.”

“Spare me the act, Anadora. You are going to tell me what I want, and I might consider your request, whatever it is.” Severus growled impatiently.

“Request?” She asked meekly.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, his wand hand still keeping the Patronus steady as he bared his teeth. “Do not think me a fool twice.”

“I did not think you were a fool once.” The woman lowered her eyes to the stone floor, frowning, “You were formidable, someone to stay under the radar of.”

Severus had to admit that it was easier to think that she had used him because he was someone she didn’t want to cross, rather than assume he was a dummy, but not by much. Levelling sarcasm at her, he narrowed his eyes. “And I applaud you for doing so for so long. Now what it is that you want from me.”

Her eyes shot up from where they had focused on the stone, and they met him with such intensity. “Mercy.” 

Severus’s knee jerk reaction was to scream at her. “ ** Mercy ** , you want mercy from  _ me _ ?” 

“Severus,” Potter called out a warning.

Flicking a glare at the man for a moment, he relaxed back into his seat as he watched her.

Her hands wrung in her lap, and he was trying to decipher if it was an act or real worry that caused the action. What was even going through her mind, asking him for some kind of clemency or mercy after her deeds. Yes, Weasley had been the hammer, but she was just as guilty for being the hand to guide him.

“You have no idea what fate faces me, so yes, I am asking that which I do not deserve.” Her voice was haunted. He had to admit, she was putting on a good show of trying to affect his emotions.

Sanguini made a soft chuckle, adding his thoughts to the conversation. “He does know of your fate, unclaimed one.”

“You— _ unbound _ .” Maria spat the word as if it were a curse. The mask of demure and weak Maria slipping away for disgust. “How could you know what awaits.”

“Due to the mistakes of your master, I have been conscripted as an envoy of the Council of Nine, long enough for this mess to be cleaned up,” Sanguini said with an air of arrogance that he rarely heard the man possess. Sanguini was usually consummately humble and it seemed that this place had more of an effect on him than earlier guessed.

“They made you an envoy? Impossible.” Maria seemed to gasp with narrowed eyes.

The vampire smirked, the hint of fang a veiled threat that Severus could read like a waved flag. “Very possible. I am the line between Severus and Hermione and the Council.”

“So they made you a puppet with an envoy name.” The woman scoffed, rolling her eyes.

This seemed to set something off in Sanguini and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he hissed. “My contract is in writing and not souls.”

“For how long.” Maria mimicked his movements, leaning forward with the fearlessness of someone who dealt with the undead for years.

Something was being said here that Severus did not understand. He was confident it had to do with status and ranking and a lot of political slush that he had no desire to learn about or dive into.

Harry was looking between the two of them before catching Severus’s eye. It was apparent to him that Harry had no idea what was going on either. Even as the chill of a conversational stalemate lingered, Sanguini held his challenging gaze. The moments were long, but finally, she looked away from him. Severus noted that Sanguini seemed satisfied with this as he leaned back in his chair.

Severus cleared his throat, and she looked at him once more.

“Insult him more and we will leave.” It was a promise.

Her face dropped, like someone who had been told they had lost a game. “It is not an insult if you knew them as I do.”

Inclining his head, he sighed. “Then why don’t you do what it is that I came here for and tell me what it is that I do not know about them.”

“In exchange for your help.” A glimmer of hope and something else danced over her eyes.

Harry snorted before Severus could say a word. ‘You are in no position to bargain.” As the only member here as an official of the Ministry, Potter would be the one to indeed have any sway in her punishment. 

Maria made a wicked face like she was keeping a secret. “Without me, you will fail.”

“I doubt it.” Severus snapped at her arrogance. “You are doing yourself no favours to earn anything from us.”

The woman leaned back against the wall, crossing one knee over the other. 

Severus watched the Patronus look up at her before crossing the room and sitting in front of his legs. He was still very disoriented that it had this shape and form now. Even the posture reminded him of her, of his Hermione. It was as if all that was left of Lily there was gone.

_ Not now, Severus…. _

His thoughts were cut through by harsh words from feminine lips. “Do you even know what was foretold? Do you even know  _ why _ she has to die?”

The insinuation that Hermione had to die unleashed a wave of protectiveness from him. Severus glared, hand tightening around his wand. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t let you rot.”

“I’ve heard the prophecy and I remember it. I also know who will be your biggest challenge and where you can find allies.” Maria explained, seemingly having lost the act now. Her face was no longer soft, and she did not sit like someone vulnerable; instead, she perched with arrogance on the bench.

Her words did interest him, most notably about this blasted prophecy that seemed to dictate why these creatures of the night would be after her anyways. He could get her to tell him more. He knew that; he just needed to know what carrot to dangle in front of her. It was evident that she wanted something that she thought he could give her. Severus needed to know what that was.

“If I found this information useful, what do you want.” There was no kindness in his words. He stripped it down the cruellest of octaves.

She nodded sighing. “Servitude, not death.”

“Pardon?” Harry asked and Severus looked at him with the same confusion.

It was Sanguini who seemed to understand what she was asking and he voiced it for them all to know. “You wish to return to the Council?”

“It is my home and all I have known. I do not wish to die a traitor’s death and wish the chance to serve as I have.” She bowed her head slightly.

A scoff of disbelief left Sanguini.“But your liege is dead; his property has all fallen under another who will not have you.”

“But another line may want me, or I can serve the Council itself.” The arrogance faded for a moment as desperation coloured her voice.

Severus understood now what was going on and shook his head. “So, in exchange for what you know, you want me to ask them not to kill you, rather let you serve under them again. Why would they trust you?”

“I won’t have a choice; I would give myself as a thrall.” She flicked hand as if she was throwing something away.

“How is that better than dead?” Harry asked incredulously.

Severus knew what a thrall was. Anyone worth their OWLS in Defense Against the Dark Arts knew a thrall was a person who had either given all of their free will over to the vampire or had it stolen. Mindless, subservient, and loyal to the point of death, there was nothing that one would not do for the one that held the reins. If she desired that, she was more afraid of death than losing herself.

Maria looked at Potter, shaking her head with a look as if she were talking to a child. “Do you know how long I have served the Council of Nine under Darcy?”

“We do not.” Severus offered, drawing the attention to him once again.

Anadora sighed, “I was six, if not younger.”

“What?” The vampire on his right exclaimed, jaw going slack.

The dark-haired woman laughed as if he had told her a delightful joke. “Come now, Sanguini, surely you know of Darcy’s— weaknesses for youth.”

“I was not acquainted with him when I was there” Sanguini cleared his throat. “And then spent the better part of the last 300 hundred years since I left the Council avoiding them, so I do not. He is too young for me to have known him.”

The smile that danced over her lips was like that of a fiend finding that its summoner was not strong enough to contain it. “He required young blood. I was a gift from his Sire. Surely you know who she is.”

Severus watched as Sanguini’s body tensed, eyes narrowing. “Lady Charion, the second seat at the right hand of the Elder. She gave you to him as a mere babe?”

“The one and the same.” Anadora hummed pleasantly as if she recalled a fond memory. “I have served Darcy my whole life. It is he who cared for me, loved me, and kept me safe. He sheltered, trained, and reared me for my life as a witch and his loyal attendant.”

He was not here to listen to her glorify her dead master who had tried to kill him and his witch. Severus was not going to stay and sit through more of this rambling. “I hope this all has a point.”

“It relates intimately to your lioness.” She offered, gesturing to his Patronus with knowing eyes.

Severus rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Go on.”

Maria began to explain her early life as a servant and her adoration of Darcy. It sounded like she had been conditioned to do nothing but adore him and love him. It reminded Severus too much of Dumbledore and it made Severus glad that both men were dead. Darcy had been ambitious, climbing up the ranks and doing all he could to gain power and prestige, and Maria was drawn along as his favourite plaything. It was sickening to think of when put into the perspective that she was a child at the time—another reason to be glad that the beast was dead.

The prisoner took on a sour expression then, crossing her arms around herself. “Then came Marietta, another gift from our Lady. She was just on the barest edge of adulthood, right where Darcy liked them best. And Marietta was ruthless, brimming with the potential for great things, and Darcy wanted her. I had to deliver the pox to the slums where she stayed, I had to monitor her to see if she lived. If she lived, then Charion had given her blessing for her to be turned, even though she was still too young.”

“You sound jealous.” Sanguini offered with a prodding hum.

A growl left the woman. “She did  _ nothing _ and earned all of his esteem. I served loyally for my whole life—his every whim, his every desire and want. I murdered for him. I bled for him! And yet, she was the one who held his eye.”

“I’m not here for your sob story,” Severus groaned in boredom.

“It is your sob story too.” She rolled her eyes. “Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, a vision was had by Seer Francois. He writhed on the floor in such a pique of passion that we thought it would kill him. All had gathered for the words he spoke—his visions had yet to be false.”

“Your so-called prophecy,” Harry was dripping with sarcasm.

Severus shared his sentiment about the whole thing but said nothing, listening to the woman so he would miss nothing she was giving away.

“Yes. The Seer's words were like thunder crashing against the stone. It spoke of that which had to be avoided.” Maria spoke with a sly smile.

Severus probed. “What did it say.”

“I moment before I reveal what I recall from it.” Maria held her hand up, and she looked into Severus’s eyes as she spoke the next words. “It was Marietta, whose dollface was painted white for Darcy’s amusement, who knew of those that the vision spoke. She drew you out by name, the both of you plucked from the ether and placed in our sights.”

Severus narrowed his eyes.“Then why were there already people watching the Weasley Home before the vision.”

“Monitoring the war. A war such as that affects us all; we needed to know what was going on with both sides.” Maria explained.

It made sense to Severus, as both Dumbledore and Riddle were trying to observe forces outside of the war to see where they would throw in their lot. Considering that werewolves had thrown their lot in with Riddle, it was a wonder that the vampires didn’t step in on the side of the Order. It was likely too dangerous and vampires tend to sit out of conflicts that are not their own.

Severus nodded. “I see. Continue.”

“I listened as Marietta and Darcy drew together a plan, a way for them to be in the Elder’s graces and for her to no longer be a servant, but his equal,  _ his wife _ .” The face the woman made was akin to someone who was going to be ill.

Sanguini noticed it too. “You grimace.”

“He would not turn me because of my value, but would defy everything to wed her?” She bit out angrily. It was undeniable that there were some unrequited feelings about the dead Harkness.

However, Severus didn’t really care for it, seeing that her actions had wrought so much pain. “The plan?”

Anadora exhaled deeply, shaking her head as if to push something from her mind. “She bargained her soul, which had been already indebted to the Council, for Granger’s. It was Hermione who was predicted to do the greatest harm and you were going to go here—to Azkaban. With you away and her death, we could avoid the reckoning.”

Harry interjected the obvious. “But Severus did not go here.”

“No, he did not, which is why we had to make moves to separate them. We were given ten years to fulfill the bargain, ten years to capture Hermione's soul.” Maria explained.

That was the one part that had never made sense to him. Why go through all the work if you just needed her dead? Why focus on the soul. What power did it hold that they wanted, or what were they trying to prevent? “Why her soul?”

The woman looked at him as he had asked a stupid question. He’d seen it before when she was a professor- when she had them all fooled. “How else do you keep two soul mates from binding? If one is consumed by a Tenebris, the other cannot connect to it.”

“Of course,” Severus said, not liking the explanation.

“This is what my master desired, and I was compelled by his will. We waited until the right time to strike since Marietta’s plan to drive you apart through Molly had worked. She knew about Fred, they had been friendly and it was easy to use that to our benefit.”

“You tricked and tormented a grieving mother.” Severus gave her a withering look. While he had absolutely no love for Molly Weasley, what had been done was low.

Maria did not seem phased at all. “I have watched the light leave more eyes than you can imagine, Severus. What is one more broken heart?”

She continued her story of how they tried to ruin Hermione’s life. The three had begun to observe Hermione, learn her patterns and make sure that she could never get back to Severus. As soon as they got them separated, it was essential to keep them that way. Darcy and Marietta had wanted Hermione to not be able to run to or rely on anyone. Isolating her to Weasley, who wasn’t her soul mate and a poor choice for her. It gave them time to plan. 

“The right time came at the Quidditch World Cup in New York State. Ron was there, alone and miserable. Desperate to not feel as if he had been left aside by Potter and Granger. It was too easy to seduce him.” She seemed pleased with herself.

Severus scoffed. “You did pick the one with the least wits of the three.”

Harry made a disapproving sound as if he were somewhat insulted to be associated with Weasley.

Maria, however, glared. “Ronald is more of a man than you think.”

“You still have feelings for him, Miss I-Have-Killed-And-Don’t-Care-About-Others,” Sanguini called her out, smirking.

It deflated her. “It is complicated and not the point.”

Sanguini stood, pacing for a moment before his chair. “I am curious about something. May I ask you how much he consented to, in regards to his tattoo.”

It was something that Severus had wondered about himself. Being the brute he was, Weasley seemed more like a tool and not a villain the more he learned. Had the redhead been aware of his place in this grand scheme or just used and then lusted for by this woman.

Maria gave him some of his answers to this. “Just the stupid Cannons one. We had to sedate him to get the whole piece done. Mine had to be done at the same time, so they would align.”

“So you consented to it,” Severus asked, the picture of what happened filling in more in his mind.

A soft, almost romantic smile fell over her lips. “It was my liege’s will. His will is my will.”

“And you want that lack of control again.” Harry seemed to not be able to wrap his head around the situation.

Her smile turned sad. “Compared to death, yes.”

Severus did not understand how this would help him in future endeavors; it only gave insight into the past and two of the people spoken about were dead. Killed by the very beast they sought to sacrifice Hermione to. If this was it, then it was indeed a wasted afternoon. “So what exactly, besides this long story, are you offering?”

“My master is dead, my life is forfeit for his crimes and my own disobedience. I want service and not that death. I will serve any of the lines.” Maria seemed to cycle on the thought, repeating what he already knew.

The cell's dankness and the energy for the Patronus were not making him any more inclined to listen to her tales. “You try my patience; that is not what I asked.”

She stood now, moving toward Severus with a calm face. Her voice was quiet and he watched her with keen eyes. If she was going to try anything, she would find herself outmatched. “There was one seat who disagreed with the other seven. You will find an ally there, in he who has slain his Sire. For a partnership that matches your ideas, you will need to seek the Delacrux seat.”

“The Marquis of Blood?” Sanguini gasped in what could only be described as fear. It was not a sound that he liked to hear coming from the man who could literally rip someone to pieces.

Severus asked of this new name and piece of the puzzle.“You know him.”

Maria laughed heartily, her thin arms wrapping around her sides. It was a cold laugh. “He has not been the Marquis of Blood for some time, not since the end of the war of sons. He is Desmond Elrick, Lawyer of the Council Laws. His son, Dhamphir Jace, holds his Sire’s seat by right of conquest. The Delacrux hold two of the Nine Seats.”

“Dante is no longer the Marquis of Blood; what changed him?” Sanguini was now on his feet, looking at the woman with curiosity. 

_ Great. More vampire politics… _ Severus internally groaned.

Maria grinned, moving toward Sanguini. Severus watched as the woman put her hand on his chest, leaning forward. Her words were a whisper, but they echoed through the room, as they seemed to have some kind of power. “She returned.”

“Oh,” Sanguini said, his hand pushing the woman back with no effort. It set the vampire pacing again, his eyes moving as if he were calculating something. This was something of import if he was reacting like this. Severus only hoped that it was important to him as well as Sanguini.

“Care to explain, Sanguini?” Harry asked, showing the impatience that characterized his youth.

Sanguini nodded, turning to both the men and ignoring the woman. “Lord Delacrux was soul bound to his wife, Amrita. He was turned; she was not and died in a rather unfortunate manner. It drove him mad and he became the Marquis of Blood—Liolus the Crimson Stalker in some regions. He—hunted his own kind.”

“Is this another fairytale?” Severus groused. He was not in the mood for more myth at the present moment.

“I was born and turned during the time of his conquests. The Crimson Stalker was our own boogeyman. But, if what Maria says is true, then we may have an ally I had not known about.” Sanguini offered in earnest. Severus was inclined to believe Sanguini over Maria in any situation.

“How does this make him an ally?” Severus inquired.

Sanguini took in a deep breath, something he did not often do and moved to Severus’s side, speaking with his hands as if he were counting something. “If she,  _ his bride _ , has returned—if her soul made it back in another form and they are reunited, then he will not stand for seeing someone trying to unbind you two or separate you. He knows that pain, as centuries of pain and bereavement. And if he holds two seats, then he has more say than any but the Elder.”

“You said soulmates were rare and something they feared,” Harry asked, drawing on the conversation they had had with him before they met here. It had been essential to let Potter know some of the more intimate details of why seeing Maria was crucial and what she would possibly be talking about. Severus had threatened him with more than violence if he ever divulged that he knew anything about this at all. Hermione did not need to be embarrassed because of what he had to tell her friend for this meeting to work.

“Which is why Dante’s sire forced him to kill his own wife in a bloodfrenzy,” Sanguini explained.

Maria giggled with delight. “And on that day, the Marquis of Blood was born. I wish I had been alive to see him in action— he is such a pale comparison to those stories now.”

Sanguini shuddered at the thought, gesturing her away from them. “You are a demented child, you know this.”

“I am what I was made to be.” Maria, amused with herself, moved back to the bench.

Severus could tell that she knew she had offered something of import and that it would be something she could leverage for his help. What she did not know is that he had little to no intention of helping her at all. Unless she could give him something more than what could be gleaned from spying on them.

“So, you have provided us with a potential ally, but you said you heard this prophecy. I want that before I consider anything.” Severus demanded.

She seemed to agree, leaning back against the stone wall. “I was forced to recite it; I know it by heart at this point.”

Maria Anadora closed her eyes, her hands moving as if she was counting something. She began to sing out the words, her voice haunting as the melody was not quite right, slanted with something sinister. If he did not know any better, he would have thought it was a spell, but she was repressed here.

Beckoned by a powerful force

From supple earth a cry burst — 

Blood running its course

Heed these words from the first — 

She who bleeds of once accursed mud

Whose place stood amongst the golden three — 

Shall shield he who served two masters once

Whose scars hide fiery venom under the lee — 

These great powers will always be

One soul twinned and one soul bound — 

But between the two

The Auruem Cord shall be found — 

Soulmates breed on a potent eve — 

Red fire cleansed her earth

Where he plants his seed — 

Union induces sacred birth

The First Moon charms

Vibrant fruit of this new start — 

Hardy babe in lioness’s arms

ignites the sundered heart

awakening the serpent’s harms — 

Revisions made arcane law

Immutable ways replaceable — 

Dismantling the world and our hall

New iterations unshakeable — 

The Fanged Crown falls 

Caught between feuding lines — 

Ambitious blood Council stalls

Where the Second Sun shines — 

Her — golden with blood of mud

He — of two masters, yet none

Prevent the crimson flood — 

No rest for us when it’s done

Magic crackles from her quill

Fitting punishment for our crimes — 

Shielding cubs from our skill

End comes to our sired times — 

Everything that we do know

All order ceases to be — 

Under the third Moon's glow

From life, shaken and free — 

The words stopped and Severus felt a chill go down his spine. It was magic, but not hers. It felt like something he’d heard a long time ago, that set him on the course for both disaster and redemption. The prophecy had that same haunting tone, that same coarse grating sensation that sunk over his soul.

Severus was still running the words over his mind. 

Sanguini broke the silence. “When was this vision given?”

“May 18, 1998. Two weeks after the battle. Hermione had just stabilized Severus. We think his survival is what triggered it. We did extensive research into that exact date, and it is the only thing we could come up with,” Maria answered quietly.

It was clearly about him and Hermione. Who else served two masters, yet none; who else was golden with blood of mud. He would need time to go over this, to try to dissect it. Even as he wanted to do it now, he wouldn’t. Hearing it had made his gut clench, and all he really wanted to do was go to Hermione and ensure she was safe. They had done so much to her on these words.

“Do you have anything else you wish to share?” Sanguini questioned the woman.

“One more thing,” Maria hummed. “Hermione believes her parents were killed by a beast in the bush. It was not that. A contract was put on her blood relations, but I have a suspicion, and I voiced it then and was ignored: that the job wasn’t done well and the renegade who brought back the evidence was too hasty to get paid and disappear. One of them likely lives.”

“You killed Hermione’s parents!” A roar erupted from Potter before Severus could fully process what had happened, and Severus put his arm up, catching the man before he threw his career and lifestyle to the wind. 

Harry looked at him, green eyes angry and confused. 

Severus shook his head; it was not worth it, not now.

Maria was not concerned it seemed. “I did not; I was otherwise occupied. My master ordered the contract.”

“That is the one she killed, right?” Harry asked Severus.

Snape did not let go of Harry yet, he was too jumpy, and he hoped that the answer would calm the boy-man.“Yes, Hermione killed him.”

“I wish I had been there to help,” Harry Potter growled.

“It was not pretty, Potter,” Sanguini interjected, drawing Harry’s attention away.

Harry answered, rather sensibly. “When has battle ever been?”

After a moment, the Auror in Harry seemed to rise again. He stood upright and his face was an angry line.

Severus could focus on getting this over with now, that he had more than he bargained for. There was a chance that his hunch was right. That perhaps her parents still yet lived. Knowing the nature of the beast would give him more for Shamus to look into.

But now, he wanted to leave. “If that is all?” 

“It is. Do you agree to help me, to plead my case to the Council?” Maria asked, moving toward him,

Severus held his hand up, halting her approach. “I agree to nothing; however, if upon hearing this, Hermione decides that she wants to speak on your behalf, I will not stop her.”

Worry crossed the woman’s face. “So my fate lies in her hands.”

“Only fitting, don’t you think?” Severus wrinkled his lips. It was strange to think that she assumed she would get more mercy from him than Hermione. Hermione was too kind for her own good and still felt the pain that this woman had lost her child. 

She really had no grasp of where she stood in the world without the anchor of the Harkness to ground her.

“I suppose.” She frowned.

“Gentlemen? Shall we?” Severus turned toward the door, the lioness Patronus getting up and following him to the door.

Wordlessly, his companions joined him, and the Warden who had been standing by the door locked it behind them. The trek back to the entrance was still haunted by the damned voices and the loud howls of the mad, but Severus was elsewhere. On the words that the woman had shared with them and the fact that Hermione’s parents could yet live. It was a lot to consider. But it was still nothing compared to his drive to get home, to the safety of their place and be sure she was alive.

The lioness walked alongside them and that was yet another diversion on his mind. Severus had never entertained the idea that his Patronus would change. That he would have lost the final reminder of his childhood friend. Something in him ached with her loss again. But this was worse because it felt like a final death. An ending to something he’d not realized was leaving.

They reached the Portkey and Sanguini placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, Severus?”

“I want to get home to her. Will you come by in a few days so we can go over this together?” He asked his friend, trying to conceal the upset that was within him. His emotions mimicked the waves bashing against the triangular tower, loud and threatening to overwhelm him. Severus, honestly, just wanted to get home.

Sanguini nodded, “Of course.”

The pale man took his Portkey, shrinking out of existence, leaving Severus standing there with Harry Potter. Some things had to be established before he would let him go. Even with his own emotions in chaos, he would protect Hermione’s.

“Potter?” His words cut across the noise, making the other man look at him. “Not a word to a soul. If someone finds anything out, it will be on your head, so I suggest you see fit to ensure that it does not.”

“Alright, I agree,” Harry said, seemingly in his own thoughts as well. The Man-Who-Won took his Portkey as well, fading away.

Severus reached for his own Portkey then, the promise of security and stability on the other side of it. He nodded at the Warden, who had been leaning against the wall, watching them.

The magic of the Portkey started to distort the scene around him. Severus thought for a moment that the man’s button seemed to flicker, like the jeweled wings of a beetle. But it had to be the way the light bounced as the Portkey took him home and to Hermione.


	78. Greiving what was lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story has scenes of violence, graphic description of domestic abuse, trauma response and recovery, alcoholism, and noncon. It will also have explicit consensual sex in later chapters. It is treated with consideration, and those scenes that can be triggering are written in a way to explain the story and build character growth and not to glorify the acts. There is also Ron Bashing, and Ron is coping with alcoholism.
> 
> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

Hermione walked in from Ginny’s kitchen, two teacups in hand. Ginny was sitting on the sofa, watching James and Lily play some tag version that had to do with dragons and goblins. It was cute, and it made Hermione smile as she dodged around them, scurrying through the room.

Carefully handling the hot tea to Ginny, she took a seat next to her. She’d come over because she didn’t want to be at home, fretting over Severus being at Azkaban. Since Harry was going with him, it made sense for her to come over and spend time with Ginny. She hadn’t been around since the explosion of emotions from finding out she was expecting and it had been good to catch up with her.

Taking a sip of her tea, she watched as James slunk along behind the coffee table on his knees, trying to hide from his baby sister. Lily wouldn’t be the baby for long. Hermione wondered how that would change the friendship between the two.

“How is your tea?” Hermione asked, setting her tea on the said coffee table.

Ginny smiled after swallowing the mouthful she’d just taken. “Weak, but anything more than this, and I will spilling my innards all over the house.”

Hermione felt terrible for her, having remembered how horrible that feeling was. “Morning sickness still.”

“Yeah, it’s not as bad as it was with James, but definitely worse than I had it with Lily.” The redhead woman said, gesturing between her two kids.

Hermione remembered that with James breathing the wrong way toward Ginny had her bending in half. It had been an exciting year, where everything had to have no smell at all. 

“Are you taking antacid draughts?” Hermione asked, taking another drink of her tea.

Ginny reached into her pocket, showing a glass flask of the soft lavender liquid. “By the liter, it feels like.”

Hermione nodded, glancing over Ginny. There was a perceivable bump, the roundness of child molding Ginny’s slim frame into that of an expectant mother. “I’m sure it will even out soon. You are what, four months along now?”

“Just a little over, yea. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about something else?” Ginny made a face like regret. 

Hermione did not want Ginny to regret having a child at her expense; she wanted to enjoy it with her. To celebrate the incoming niece or nephew as she had with the other two. “No, Ginny, it’s okay. Really.”

Ginny’s face soured more as if she didn’t believe her. “Then, for my sake, can we talk about something else?”

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Hermione sighed, taking more of her tea. James darted under her arm, squealing in delight as Lily trailed him, hands out to catch him. She aptly kept either of them from knocking the tea from her hands.

“How are things going between you and Severus?” Ginny inquired, her tone giving away more interest than her face was showing.

Hermione snorted. “Was that code for ‘I need gossip’?”

“Perhaps. So, how is it going?” Ginny shifted on the couch so that she was facing her, one leg tucked up and bent under the other. 

Hermione thought about how she was going to answer her. Aside from her therapist and Viktor, Hermione hadn’t really talked about how things were going. Not that it was meant to be a secret, but part of Hermione rather enjoyed that the whole world didn’t know what was going on behind the closed and secluded door of Spinner’s End. A smirk danced across her lips as she thought about the night before. “Great. Better than I could have imagined it.”

“That smirk means something; spill.” Two red eyebrows waggled at her as if she’d given away a secret.

“Are you sure you want to hear the intimate details of my relationship with Severus?” Hermione crossed her arms, looking over her friend.

Ginny’s face lit up like it was a holiday. “There are  _ intimate _ details!? I absolutely do want to hear it. Have you, ah, been able to —?”

Hermione stopped her, a finger up as she glanced over the children. Small pictures had big ears. “Yes, and it was  _ world-shattering _ .”

“Merlin, that’s good,” her couch companion said, tucking in as she if she were there for a good tale. 

“You have no idea.” Hermione couldn’t help but beam, her lips pressed closed before she offered up something that Ginny Potter had no business knowing. The world didn’t need to know they were soulmates. Not yet, not until they were both ready to talk about it. As much as she trusted Ginny to keep a secret, it wasn’t only her that it affected. Hermione had no desire to put Severus in a position where he felt uncomfortable.

“But like—, you are okay, none of the problems you were having before,” Ginny asked, her hand reaching over to place on hers. It was from an area of concern. Under those eyes, Ginny was making sure that Hermione was not being taken advantage of or being hurt. It was touching.

She gave a small shrug as if to dismiss the idea, as she explained. “Some, but not nearly as bad. Severus has done so much and has been so patient with me.”

James and Lily had caught each other. It was impossible to tell who was chasing who at this point as they bounced from the chair to the floor and back, bellowing and shrieking like great beasts. It distracted Hermione for a moment.

“As much as it should ick me out because, well, it is Severus, it doesn’t. I’m thrilled to see you happy, Hermione. Circe knows you deserve some happiness.” Ginny said, bringing her back to the conversation with a squeeze of her hand.

It was impossible to not smile at the praise and approval of Ginerva. It wasn’t that she needed to have it, but getting it was still very precious. “Thank you. It is really different being with him, nothing I have ever thought I would experience.”

“Like how?” Ginny asked, leaning from the couch for a moment to pick up a pillow that the wrestling children had knocked over. She tucked it behind her, evidently trying to get more comfortable on the sofa.

There was a list so long that Hermione could not complete it about how Severus was nothing like she expected, but she went with something simple. “Well, every morning, he makes us coffee and makes us breakfast.”

“Every morning?” Ginny asked as if she had just been told that Severus had two heads.

“ _ Every _ morning. And I make tea and dinner, and we eat it together and just talk. And it's not Quidditch or something inane. Sometimes it is potions, or magic theory or what need to be harvest from the garden.” She explained, pride sinking into place in her chest. Severus hated talking about nothing as much she did, and knowing that there was always something to talk about made it so much more enjoyable to be with him.

Ginerva cackled, tilting her head back before she placed her hand on Hermione’s arm. “Stop, you are describing Severus Snape as like a dream here.”

“Ginny, he is my dream.” Hermione meant it. It came from the depth of her being saying that he was hers forever and had bonded with him. Severus was everything she ever thought she wanted and everything she never knew she needed.

“Ah, I’m so disgusted.” Ginny teased. “Do you know the last time I asked Harry to make me breakfast? It was a disaster? He couldn’t wrangle the kids and watch it.”

It likely did make it more challenging with two small children circling his knees. Hermione did her best to not think about how Severus would have handled that. It was a pipe dream and nothing more. It would be her and Severus and Crookshanks, and thinking about anything more would lead to the heartbreak that she didn’t deserve. “Well, the advantage we have is that only Crooks is in the house. And speaking of that, Severus and Crooks get along. He actually makes food for him in the morning, and I catch Severus chatting with him sometimes before I come down for coffee.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ginny said, crossing her arms.

Hermione laughed at her friend’s posture, set on assuring her that it wasn’t a lie. “It’s true, I’m telling you. Severus and Crooks get along.”

Her ginger friend laughed. “I meant the whole you get to lie in bed, and he makes the coffee bit.”

Hermione laughed with her, shaking her head. “Is Harry really that bad?”

Ginny paused for a moment, taking some of her tea. Her red hair shook about her shoulders as she answered Hermione. “No, it has to do with his upbringing. It was his job to do the cooking with the Dursley’s, and he says that sometimes, it makes him feel upset. Like he gets downright depressed if he burns something, to the point where he will try to hide it.”

That made more sense to Hermione than Harry being unattentive to his family. However, the lingering effects of the trauma he suffered at the hands of his relatives made sense. She remembered him telling her about it when they were on the run. How he didn’t think they even missed him except that there was no one to do the chores now. It had hurt her heart then, and it did so now. “They weren’t kind to him.”

Ginny’s face twisted into the same sorry that Hermione felt. “No, they weren’t. But it would be nice if I didn’t have to be the one up making the food in the morning. Harry does get the kids ready in the morning, though, which I mean is a help. Don’t think I am saying he is useless or anything.”

“I didn’t think he was. We all have ghosts from our past that haunt us.” She assured Ginny. Hermione thought Harry was useless at a few things, but caring for his family was not one of them. She’d seen the fire he was willing to wade to protect them beforehand. 

Shortly after James had been born, someone had tried to make an attempt on Ginny and him. They’d still be living at the Burrow so that Molly could help with the baby. They’d gone for a walk with the pram around the town and been caught off guard by a Dark Lord Sympathizer. Ginny was injured while defending little James. Hermione had watched as Harry stormed out of the Ministry like hell was coming. She and Ron had followed, led by some Pavlovian response to that kind of fury in him. 

Harry never said how he knew that his family was in danger, but Hermione hadn’t asked. She remembered seeing him bring down pain indiscriminately, like Hades defending his Persphone. They had a hard time identifying the wizard when he was done with him. Harry hadn’t killed him, but he had made sure that he would never ever think about coming for the Potters again. Or anyone else for that matter.

Ginny broke her thoughts from the past. “Did I tell you that his cousin wrote to him?”

“No, what did he have to say,” Hermione asked, bringing herself back to the present.

“Wanting to invite him to dinner. Says he’d like to catch up,” Ginny said it as if she was untrusting of the motives of the man in question. Ginny knew that Dudley, or Duddles, whatever his name was, had been cruel to Harry. Hermione was well aware that Ginny was as protective over Harry as he was of her.

Hermione asked, wondering what was to come of it. “Is Harry going?”

“Hasn’t made up his mind yet,” Ginny said, glancing around.

Hermione realized that the kids had gotten too quiet and she looked around also. “Understandable.”

They had tucked themselves behind Harry’s chair, and Lily was climbing up on a small table as if she were trying to reach the shelves on the wall. Hermione was about to get up to get her when Ginny shouted.

“Lily Luna, if you don’t get down from that end table, so help me Merlin!” 

The youngest Potter looked like she jumped out of her skin as she dropped to the ground, hiding behind the chair. Hermione would have thought she was scared if she didn’t hear the giggling.

Ginny rubbed her forehead, sighing. “Sorry, she’s getting into everything right now. That stage.”

“No, no, I get it. Little ones get into everything. It is their prime directive.” Hermione offered with her hand up.

“It’s just the way they are. So, he cooks, you guys talk about more than Quidditch, is that it?” Ginny said, returning the subject to her and Severus. 

It was evident that Ginny was actually interested in how things were going. If it was out of curiosity, or a desire to ensure that she was actually safe with Severus, Hermione wasn’t sure, but she appreciated it. “Well, we read together a lot. He lets me use him as a chair?”

“Now, you are telling me stories.” Ginny snorted with disbelief.

Hermione shook her head, demonstrating with her hands. “No, really, he sits in his armchair and I sit across his lap. It’s the most comfortable way I have ever read a book.”

“You sound like you are in love deeply.” Ginny offered with a meaningful smile.

She paused, that roar of warmth slipping over her heart. Hermione closed her eyes and smiled. “I am. And I’m pretty sure he is too.”

“Severus Snape in love has got to be a sight.” Ginny mused, finishing off her tea.

Hermione took down the last of her tea before it got too cold to drink as well, humming with her words. “It’s something.”

The fireplace flashed green, and Harry was suddenly in the living room. His expression was somber before he looked over at them. A smile seemed to wash over whatever was on his mind as he walked to them.

“Oh, Harry, how did it go?” Ginny asked, reaching up for him.

Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead, sighing. “To be honest, I have no idea. It will likely take me a week to wrap my head around it all.”

Hermione looked at the fireplace, expecting another flash of green. “Where is Severus?”

Harry looked at her with a firm, tense smile.“Going home to you. I think he doesn’t know you came over to see Gin.”

Something had happened. That was Harry’s smile of discontent. Hermione was on her feet at that moment, the need to get to Severus imperative. “Is he alright?”

Harry rubbed his hand up to his face and through his hair. “Hard for me to say, he had his stern face on, but based on what happened, I would say, probably not.”

“What happened,” Ginny questioned her husband.

Harry was still looking at Hermione.“I think he should tell you.”

“I should go.” Hermione dismissed her teacup, leaning down to hug Ginny.

Ginny hugged her back tightly. “Okay love, thank you for coming over.”

“No problem.” Hermione hugged Harry, trying to not make a face at the smell of death that lingered around him. “Thank you, Harry, for going with him.”

“Anytime.” Harry offered.

Hermione gathered her things, moving toward the fireplace. Peeking around the chair, she blew a kiss at her niece and nephew. “Bye Lily, Bye James. Muah.”

“Bye, Aunt Moine.” They said, jumping from trying to climb the table again.

Hermione took the floo powder and got into the fireplace, calling out their address. Anxiety was rising in her; what had that dreadful woman said to him. What had Harry looking how he did when came home? Should she have gone rather than staying home? If Maria had hurt Severus, Hermione was not going to take kindly to it.

Landing in the library, she saw no sign of him. No shoes by the door, no sounds in the house. Crooks perked his head up and meowed at her in greeting before going back to sunning in his window.

Hermione moved to the stairs, calling up for him. “Severus?” She called for him, her voice echoing back at her.

“Hermione,” Severus said quietly, coming up behind her from the kitchen.

She turned, looking him over. His expression was guarded- even the sound of her name sounded like it had been put through a filter. Hermione stepped forward, hugging him. Severus wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her wordlessly to him.

Her nose regretted the action, he reeked of Azkaban, but she suffered it. It was apparent, by the way that he was still holding on to her that he needed this. He needed wordlessly and unquestioning affection. 

After a moment, she couldn’t bear the smell any longer and she drew back against his arms. “Are you alright?”

“It was a trying morning.” His eyes looked tired, the lines around his face were drawn deep.

“Harry said—” She began.

Severus snapped at her. “What did Harry say?”

It had startled her, and she stumbled over her words for a moment. “He said that you didn’t seem like you were okay and that whatever had happened, you needed to tell me.”

“Forgive me,” Severus said dejectedly. “Perhaps, Mr Potter is learning.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked, taking his hand in hers. 

His black eyes seemed like they were clouded with thoughts and feelings. It was an expression she’d not seen on him before, not like this. “I desire a shower before anything else. I can see by your face that the odor is offensive.”

He drew away from her, turning toward the stairs.

“Severus.” She reached for him.

He turned his head slightly; his lips were trembling. His voice tore at her heart— the deep timbre of his voice was riddled with sadness and pain. “Hermione,  _ please _ .”

She didn’t know what to do, but she could tell that he asked her for time and space. Scrambling for occupation, she nodded, turning to the kitchen.“I’ll put on some tea.”

“I may require a calming draught.” His voice was strained as if he were trying to resist tears.

Hermione didn’t dare look at him; if he was crying, there was no way she was going to let him go suffer alone. “Okay, I will fetch one.”

“Hermione.” It was a strained breath that carried her name.

Her eyes turned to him and she could see that the white of his eyes were growing red with emotion. “Yes?”

His black irises met hers and he looked at her intensely. “I love you.”

“Severus, I love you too. Go shower. I’ll be here.” His words had eased her; whatever storm was in his mind was not to do with how he felt about her. 

Hermione went to the kitchen and leaned against the counter to still the concern in her chest. Something had been said or had happened that had reduced Severus to an incredibly emotional state. It shook her and her heart ached for him. As much as she wanted to rush up the stairs, grab him and demand he tell her who had hurt him, she knew that it was not what he needed. 

Focusing on what she could do to help him, Hermione began the water for the tea. Setting the old banged up kettle into the burner, she flicked it the knob to ignite the fire.

What could he need a calming draught for? The last time she’d seen him take one was when she explained what had happened to Alexander. He’d been mad then, not sad, not like this. Not understanding what was happening grated on her need to know, but she needed to have patience. Patience with him like he had with her when she needed it.

She went to the spelled cabinet, opening it with her wand to seek out the household potions that he kept there. Severus was rather strict about not holding anything dangerous in the house, and most of the things still worked on Muggle technology, rather than magical. Grabbing the draught from it’s neatly labeled row, Hermione’s eyes fell over the golden liquid of the panic puff’s other form. Taking it in hand, she brought them both to the counter. Not knowing what she was facing meant she might have needed to calm herself as well.

Hermione heard the shower turn off upstairs, and she poured the tea for them both. Bringing it to the table, she sat down, waiting. She held the golden panic puff vial in her hands, tipping it back and forth to watch how it swirled and rocked back and forth. It was not clear, like a luck potion, but layered with various gold and white shades. It almost shimmered in the light of the room as she shifted it back and forth.

When Severus joined her at the table, she set it down next to the calming draught. His soap's scent was strong and it was a pleasant exchange for the previous aroma that coated him. 

He didn’t look at her face; instead, his focus on her hands and the potions between them.

She observed him as he sat there. His angular face was pinker than usual and his eyes were red. If he had cried, it had been in the shower, privately. Hermione had to respect that he needed the space. His fingers twitched on the table, and she could see that Severus was trying to control his thoughts. His lip quirked down, and he would command it into a straight poker face. Whatever had happened, he was trying to keep himself together because of it.

So Hermione decided she would make the first move. Reaching her hand across the table, she placed it on the one that was twitching. Smoothing her fingers over his knuckles, Hermione spoke quietly. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

“I have to.” His words were defeated and drained.

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. “You don’t. If you aren’t ready, I can give you space.”

Severus frowned, the lines cutting deeply into his face. “I would have never been ready and you are going to think me a fool.”

“I doubt it, Severus. What happened.” Hermione took his hand between hers, tenderly rubbing it in the hope to ease whatever nerves she could.

He tilted his head back, damp hair flipping around, and he pinched his nose at his tear ducts as if he were trying to close them off. His bottom lip withdrew into his mouth, making a flat line of his mouth. His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed back, his face flushing more. Hermione watched the changes in him, trying to garner insight into what could have this effect on him.

The moment grew longer and tenser with each of his controlled breaths until he spoke with a choked sound. “Lily is gone.”

Hermione blinked. Once. Twice. What he said made no sense to her. If he was talking about Harry’s mum, then yes, she was gone, but Hermione had just been with little Lily, and she was just fine. What did this have to do with his visit to Maria? Hermione needed more information than his statement. “What?”

“It is hard to explain, and I implore you to have patience with me,” Severus said, looking down at her now, his black eyes laden with some strange emotion. He was incredibly upset. It was clear from how he was acting, but more so by his expression.

“Take your time,” Hermione whispered, still calmly stroking her fingertips over the back of his hand.

It was another long moment. Severus closed his eyes, his other hand softly settling on top of hers. Not stopping her movements, just resting in place over it. He looked away from her, his eyes moving to the kitchen window. “I love you. I know this to be true, not only because of our soul bond but because of something that happened today. However, I was not- _ prepared _ for what I was giving up. For what was being _ lost. _ ”

“What was lost?” She asked him, tilting her head.

His voice strained around what sounded like a cry. “Lily.”

Again Hermione found herself lost. It was apparent now that he spoke about Harry’s mother, but she had died long ago. Had Maria had some insight on that death that had brought it back up for him? As far as Hermione knew, the Vampires had not gotten involved with the wizarding war, selecting to hole up until someone was declared a victor.

“I don’t understand Severus. Harry’s mum has been dead for a long time.” She needed to know what was going on.

“I know that.” Severus grimaced. “If there is a single soul on this blasted sphere that knows it, it is me.”

Hermione questioned him more. “So, what do you mean she is gone.”

His eyes fixed on hers. “How much did you pay attention to my memories or Potter’s open disregard for my privacy as he told the world about them.”

Furrowing her forehead as she tried to draw conjecture from those memories to today and this, Hermione thought over the memories. Harry had shown them to her and Ron. Hermione had seen them multiple times, sifting through them for bits of truth for his defense against the Wizengamot. 

“Enough, I suppose. I did what I could to make sure I got the facts. What did I miss?” She asked him, squeezing his hand.

Another frown. “Then, you likely missed nothing, as Potter did not either when it happened.”

“What happened, Severus? What has you so upset?” It was almost a demand at this point.

Severus pulled his hand from hers, reaching into his pocket. From it, he withdrew his wand and pointed it to the kitchen. “ _ Expecto Patronum _ .”

Hermione watched as the blue mist left his wand. She’s seen Patronus before, in his memories. It wasn’t until it started to take shape that Hermione began to understand. Where a small doe had been that which had protected him for years, a huge lioness stood. 

Her heart hit her stomach and then her throat so quickly that she nearly jerked from the sensation. Severus’s Patronus was no longer a doe; it was no longer a symbol of his undying and ever-present love for Lily, but instead for her.

It made sense now. 

Hermione turned to look at him and saw that a tear had run down the side of his face. Severus looked miserable as if his heart had been broken. Hermione let go of his hand, her fingers covering her lips.

“Oh Severus,” Hermione said quietly, understanding the pain he’d been trying to hold on to.

His voice warbled around emotions as he watched the lioness. “She’s gone. The last thing I have of Lily is no more.”

Guilt washed over her, strangely enough. Hermione had never thought about the implications of their bond beyond their closeness. She had never considered that it would change things that were important to him. Part of her felt like this was her fault, that she was hurting him because of this change. It conflicted strongly with the amount of her that felt so good that it represented her- that he thought would protect him from fear itself.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t — I” She tried to apologize.

He turned to her, dismissing the spell. His hand reached for hers, drawing them from her mouth into his hold. “I know you didn’t, and you have no reason to be sorry. I am not upset with you.”

“Who are you upset at?” She asked him quietly, her fingers wrapping around his.

He looked at the table and their conjoined hands. A tear fell and hit the back of Hermione's hand. Seeing him like this made her stomach flip, and she wanted to do anything she could to make it all better.

Severus let out a sigh before he answered her. “I don’t know. Myself, the world. Years of failure.”

“Severus, I’m sorry,” Hermione breathed out her guilt for this.

His hair flopped around as he shook his head. “You shouldn’t be. If I weren’t such a broken man, we would be rejoicing the sign of our love.”

The way he called himself broken struck a chord with her and Hermione let his hands go, leaning across the table and catching his face in her palms. Pressing away another tear under her thumb, she caught his gaze. Hermione drew all the belief in him that she had into her voice as she tried to comfort him. “You aren’t broken. Just like I’m not broken. This, what you are feeling, is grief.”

“I know. But it is unexpected and for someone so long dead that it is morbid at this point. You don’t understand, and I don’t think I have the strength to tell you.” Severus closed his eyes, leaning against her hands. A few more round tears escaped under his lashes and she smoothed them away.

Hermione shushed him, wanting to pull him close but there was a table in the way. “Then don’t, but know I am here when you can.”

“I love you. Please do not think that this undermines that.” His hands came up to cup around hers and his voice squeaked. 

There was fear there, fear that his feelings over Lily Potter would make her resent or be upset with him. Hermione, at one time, would have felt those feelings. She would have been concerned and jealous that she was living up to a memory that she would never compete with, but she didn’t feel that now. 

Hermione had done a lot of reading on grief for her own sake, and it had made it easier for her to accept a while ago that Severus would always have a love for Lily and that it was infinitely different from how he felt about her. Not better, not worse, just different. They had never talked about it because it was something she didn’t want to bring up. Maybe they should have.

“Severus, I know she had your heart before I was even a twinkle in my father’s eye. I am not jealous of it or worried about anything but you,” Hermione offered as an explanation. 

She let him go now, moving to get out of her chair.

Severus opened his eyes, watching her as if he were afraid she was going to leave. His voice was that of sorrow. “I could deny her death; I could shove it aside. When grief or the pain became too much, I could summon her, and it was a sign, a symbol that she was still here with me. That I was making up for the mistakes of my failed life.”

Hermione came around the table, pulling him into an embrace. “Your life is not failed.”

His hands wrapped around her, and she found herself sitting across his lap as he buried his face into her shoulder. “I hold many sins and failures Hermione, and up until recent years, they had been more than the successes.”

There was no arguing with that point; he offered her facts. Severus’ youth was full of bad decisions, but she felt like he had been making changes to overcome those mistakes. “Fair enough, but I don’t want you thinking you are a failure.”

“But, she is gone.” It was a sob that planted itself into her shoulder. Severus was openly crying into her now, his shoulders curled forward as his arms tightened around her. Hermione tucked her arm tighter around him, one hand running over his damp hair.

This reminded her of a time when the roles were reversed. She was sobbing into Severus's shoulder, trying to find sense in the madness of grief. Drawing on that, she tried to remember what he’d told her to help her get through it.

“Is she really gone, Severus?” Hermione asked him softly.

His hand flicked from her to the kitchen, where his Patronus had been standing, his voice a cry. “See for yourself, in her stead, you have moved into that place that was ever only hers.”

She sucked in a breath as he admitted this to her, that she’d taken a place that had always and only ever belonged to Lily. It felt wrong to feel joy in his moment of pain, but it was still there. Severus loved her that much. Shaking her head from that, her attention was now on calming him. As she held him, the words she needed to say came to her. “You are saddened because your Patronus no longer reflects your feelings for her. But she’s not gone. No more than Alexander is gone. If you are so upset about this, she can’t be gone because she is still in your heart. You’ve not forgotten her.”

He stilled. 

The crying stopped and Severus sucked in a deep breath. He nodded against her, wordlessly agreeing with her words. Severus didn’t need to vocalize that he had heard her. It was enough that he had acknowledged them.

His hands were still tight against her, holding on to her like she was the lifeline in a storm. Gently, Hermione pressed a kiss to the top of his head, running her hands over his back. He was calming down; she could tell in the tense muscles of his shoulder relaxing. 

“Thank you, Hermione.” His grave whisper lifted to her ears as he looked up at her.

Hermione leaned down so that she could press her forehead to his. “Can I suggest something that might help?”

“I would be remiss in telling you no.” He swallowed hard, one of his hands coming to wipe his face.

She took in a deep breath, preparing for what she was about to suggest to him. He could take it rather poorly, but it seemed like it was what he needed from her perspective. “Do you want to take a trip to Godric’s Hollow?”

He did not answer her at first. Eyelids fell over black eyes as he took in a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I could go on my own right now.”

Squeezing him, Hermione sighed to control her own feelings. Seeing him like this made her want to cry as well, if only for the pain he was suffering. “Not alone- with me. Maybe you need to grieve as I needed to; maybe you need to say what you feel. You don’t have to. It is just a suggestion.”

He leaned his head against her. “Am I hurting you?”

“I am only hurting because you are in pain and I want to help you.” She admitted, running her hand down his back to the point where the chair met him.

Severus turned his head and his lips pressed a ghost of a kiss on her cheek. “What did I do to deserve you, I will never know.”

Hermione let out a morbid chuckle. “If you look at it objectively, we both failed and that is what brought us together.”

“Is that an attempt to ease the pain?” Severus questioned, clearing his throat.

“Did it work?” she asked, craning her neck now to look down on him.

“In tiny measure.” His lip quivered up the smallest fraction. It was enough for her.

Severus coughed and leaned back in the chair, looking at her. “Another cup of tea, and we will go.”

“Whenever you are ready.” Hermione nodded, taking to her feet so that he could drink his tea. 

His hand caught her wrist as she tried to step back around the table. “Hermione, what is your Patronus?”

“An otter, last time I checked. Want me to check and see if it has changed as well?” Hermione offered. Now that he had eased even a bit, she let the curiosity take up some of her mental space.

He let her hand go as if what she said satisfied some concern he had. “Only if you want to.”

Drawing her wand, Hermione focused on happiness. One happy thought rose to the surface, a slow dance in the library. Pulling that memory to the fore, she cast the spell. “Expecto Patronum.”

Blue wispy light escaped her wand and took shape. Hermione burst into laughter because instead of a tiny otter, or even a snake, Severus stood there, etched in blue, arms crossed and menacing. She laughed so hard that she dropped her wand, the figure vanishing as the spell ceased.

He had made no noise up to this point, “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Severus, you are my Patronus,” Hermione gasped, leaning on the table as she tried to contain herself. “You are the only thing that I think can protect me against fear itself.”

Looking at his face, Severus’s mood seemed to light. “There is something wrong with you, Granger.”

“There  _ really _ is, and I think it is being in love with you.” Hermione still chuckled, taking her seat.

He cleared his throat, taking the tea in his hands and taking a long sip.“I have to thank the universe that it was lioness now, and not you fully-formed from my wand.”

“Wouldn’t that have been a shock to Harry?” Hermione stifled another chuckle as she tried to take a drink of her own tea.

Severus hummed. “And your ex-husband.”

Freezing in the middle of her mirth, Hermione fixed Severus with a look of concern. “You saw Ron?”

“I did, but we will talk about that when Sanguini comes over tomorrow.” Severus offered ruefully, clearly saying he didn’t want to talk about the conversation until Sanguini was there.

It made sense to her; with him being upset, it would not do for them both to be. “One thing at a time.”

“If we can manage it, yes.” Severus agreed.

After tea was over, Hermione and Severus Apparated to Godric’s Hollow. Hermione had not been there since that Christmas in 1997 when Nagini had taken the form of Bagshot. There had never been a need, and Harry had never asked her. That didn’t mean that the location wasn’t one that was etched into her memory. 

How far she had come, from a cold, hungry young woman, fighting to save the world from a great evil to a woman helping her lover combat the ghosts of his past. Severus had her arm wrapped around his as they made their way past the other graves. It seemed that he knew the place as well, if not better than she did.

Had Severus ever known that she’d been here, that they’d spent that Christmas trying to survive in the shadow of what he thought was his greatest failure? Hermione thought better than to tell him about it right now, maybe another day, when he wasn’t so emotionally charged.

Stopping at the headstone, Hermione looked up at him. Severus’s face was long and pained. Grief etched creases into his forehead.

“I do not know what I should do?” It left him in a feeble whisper.

Hermione squeezed his arm and let out a breath. “You don’t have to do anything. But if it will help, you can tell her about the changes. It always makes me feel better to tell Alexander what is going on in the world. It sounds silly, but it helps me. It doesn't mean that it will help you.”

They stood there for a few minutes and he let out a deep sigh. “Would you give me a few moments?”

“Absolutely. Call for me when you need me,” Hermione offered, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

Severus nodded, eyes fixed on the stone bearing her name. “I shall.”

Hermione wandered off from him, out of the lanes of graves and toward a garden that had been nothing by ghastly trunks when she’d been here last. It was vibrant and green in the heat of summer, trees flowering, and ivy creeping up over the low garden walls. A metal plaque sat at the entrance and she took a moment to read it. It was called the garden of reflection. A smile graced her lips and she walked under the archway. Taking a seat on a stone bench, Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding in. Her worry about Severus was still there, but there was a hope that this would help him feel at least less like he had somehow betrayed Lily’s memory.

The whole situation made her realize that they both had no idea what would change now that they were together as they were. A Patronus changing was not that uncommon when a witch or wizard fell in love. A Patronus being a person wasn’t unheard of either; she’d read that in school during charms. Usually, it was an idol or a hero of the past that the caster felt close to. Hermione was still amused that her’s had become Severus.

Crossing one leg over the other, she bounced it as she reflected on other things that could be affected. Sanguini had told them that magic between them could be shared, but what else did it do to their magic. It was a world of possibilities and it made her itch for more resources on it. Someone had to have studied soulmates in some detail. 

She found herself lost in thought when a shadow loomed over her. Hermione glanced up and smiled, seeing that Severus had come to join her. She patted the stone next to her.

“Feel any better?” She asked as he settled next to her.

Severus slipped his arm around her. “Moderately. It still hurts.”

“It will.” Hermione offered kindly. It would likely always hurt, just as she would still have pain under her heart.

Severus broke her from what could have been a downward spiral. “What had you so furious in thought?”

“Trying to think about how else our magic might have changed.” She smiled at him, taking his hand.

“Insatiably curious about everything.” He sighed, squeezing her hand.

Hermione chuckled and shrugged. “It’s a talent.”

They sat in the garden for a little while. Hermione enjoyed the calm silence and Severus seemed to rejuvenate in it. Her thoughts returned to the possibilities of soulbound magic. 

The sun was beginning to set and Severus yawned. “I’d very much like to go home now.”

“Of course. I want to get some reading in before the end of this week. I am going to meet with Mr. Greengrass for the pre-trial paperwork.” Hermoine said, taking to her feet. The meeting would have a two-fold purpose, as she would meet with one of his other clients too. Another woman who was trying to escape her husband, it seemed.

Severus’s brows rose up. “Merlin, is that already upon us. Where is the time going?”

“Ron’s trial is next week, Severus.” Hermione nodded, tucking her arm around his as they moved to walk out of the garden. She had to admit that time did seem to be slipping out of their hands like sand in an hourglass.

* * *

Severus and Hermione,

Viktor and I will be having a stag party at the club in a few weeks and want you to come. It will be in the private party room, so no press, no nosey busybodies: just us, some friends and some family. Just a way for us to all unwind, have a few drinks and dance. 

Don’t worry, Hermione, you don’t have to drink; the girls all know who you are at this point and will make sure you get whatever you need. Roxanne is excited that you might be coming around.

Please say you will come, even if it is for a few minutes. My father would be pleased to see you both.

Thanks,

Draco Malfoy

Owner 

Secluded Delights

* * *

Miss Granger,

I am writing to inform you that I will have to cancel next week's appointment due to a personal situation that I am unable to reschedule. I do apologize for this inconvenience. We will keep our schedule for the week after. Please keep up with your journal and see the attached reading list for any extra literature you may need to hold you over. 

Sincerely, 

Leliana Shade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work has gone into full swing and I find myself exhausted often.  
> Updates will likely slow down to twice during the week and at least once during the weekend.  
> So don't panic if it is a few days, I am not abandoning my baby, just taking more time on it.
> 
> Also I know there was a lot in the previous chapter and i might have been very confusing. It was meant to leave the reader just as confused as Severus. I promise more things will be explained soon.
> 
> <3 Tea


	79. Politics and Potential Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.

The bed jostled. 

Instinct made Severus's eyes flick open, his hand around the wand under his pillow. Ears focused with his eyes, listening for whatever threat had roused him. The house was still— quiet. Severus could sense no danger, no reason for him to have been awakened. Nothing seemed amiss. 

Barely awake, he listened for a moment longer before closing his eyes.

The bed shook again, and he turned now, searching for Hermione in the darkness. The duvet encircled her, and she tossed, her face screwed in some kind of phantom agony.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Severus tucked his hands into the covers, peeling back the linen cocoon. Not entirely cognitive to understand what was happening, he set about trying to release her.

Hermione’s lips moved, her breathing out an undecipherable gibberish, but the tone was heartbreaking. It was like begging or pleading. She twisted again violently, making the bed creak.

_ A nightmare… _ Severus realized, his hands having unwound the covers. Tenderly and tentatively, he reached out to console her. “Hermione, love.”

Hermione’s eyes flickered open, the gaze of unrecognition there as sleep clouded her vision. Fear in her eyes matched the expression on her face.

“Shhhh. I was only a dream.” He offered, his hand moving her hair from her face. More than once, he’d woken up from terrors of his mind with no idea where he was or what was going on.

She blinked once. Twice. “Severus?” There was panic in her voice as if something terrible had happened.

“You had a bad dream. I woke you.” He explained himself. It was clear by her face that she was still in that fog between waking and sleep.

Another pitiful sound escaped her, and Severus tucked his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. He was grateful that she did not resist him. Instead, he felt Hermione pressing her face into his chest with a shaky breath. “Whatever it was, it’s over. I have you.” He breathed into her hair.

In the darkness of the room, he held her, stroking her back as he felt her relax. Rolling to his back, he pulled her to his side. 

Hermione laid her head on his chest and made a happy humming sound. 

Saying nothing, he stroked her back until she was snoring again, her arm draped over his torso.

Unfortunately, his mind had stirred, and he did not think he would be joining her in slumber for a while. Stretching his hand out, he pulled the covers up over her back.

There was still a soft ache in his chest. The events of the day had been trying, emotionally and mentally. The loss of the last piece of his past had hit him unexpectedly. While the time he spent silently expressing his goodbyes to Lily had her grave had helped, there was still a dull stab from the loss.

Hermione made a noise in her sleep, adjusting and throwing her leg over his.

The action brought some realization to him, something he’d thought of when he was in the cemetery but had not the strength to voice. Severus wasn’t sure if he would ever have the power to express that thought, but it lingered.

Never in a million years would he have had with Lily what he has with Hermione.

He knew it now as if it were something he’d been ignoring for years and then forced to face it. Not that he’d really ignored it; it had just been something he didn’t want to admit. Even previously, when he realized that what he had for Lily had been an unhealthy obsession and not love, Severus did not like to acknowledge that it would have never amounted to anything. Lily had never felt that way for him. His love, his adoration had been unrequited and he carried a torch for her despite that.

But now, there was something that made him set that torch aside. It hurt, it hurt more than he expected it would, but Severus knew that the pain was more for losing the consistency rather than what was lost. Severus knew that instead of loving Lily, he venerated and worshipped her as the only good thing in the world, the only light in the neverending darkness of his life. But that wasn’t true anymore if it had ever been real in the first place.

Hermione’s love for him, her open and reciprocal affection, was like the sun against the flickering candlelight of Lily. Of what he imagined Lily as. He did not have to imagine Hermione or her feelings for him; she expressed them openly, without shame. Without needing to hide from her friends or act differently when they were around.

Letting out a deep sigh, Severus ran his hand down his face as he came to terms with this upheaval. To linger on these feelings would let his imagined loss take away from what he had in front of him. 

His eyes flicked over the sleeping sorceress sleeping on his chest.

The memory of her Patronus changed caused him to snort quietly. If he had ever been unsure of her trust in him or her love, that was enough to dismiss it. The woman viewed him with such esteem that he was that which she thought would protect her from fear. Her memories with him were so strong and powerful that she could do what he viewed as the unimaginable.

Had anyone ever trusted him as much as she had? Truly trusted him, not out of duty or need. Severus didn’t think so. And he knew that no one had ever loved him as she did. His very soul had seen it and bound itself to hers because of that love—both his and hers.

The warmth of her had started to pull a drowsy veil over his mind. Severus leaned his face forward, pressing a sleepy kiss to the woman that seemed to surprise him continually.

“Goodnight, my love.” He rumbled, his hand running down her back before his head fell back into the pillow. Closing his eyes, Severus let the cadence of her snoring and the warmth of her pressed into his side deliver him to the land of Morpheus.

* * *

Severus heard the floo from the kitchen as he made their morning coffee. Squinting, he grabbed his wand in hand and turned the corner into the room. He’d not expected any morning guests, and few were allowed entry without pressing for permission from the wards.

Sanguini was standing in his library, a thick book under one arm, and holding a metal bowl between his hands.

“Good Morning, Master Snape, I know I am early, but I feel the sooner we start unraveling this prophecy, the sooner we know what we go against.” His eyes moved over Severus, who was still shirtless and in his boxers. “Forgive me. I had expected you would have been awake already.”

Severus sighed, shaking his head. “You are right. However, Hermione and I are just rising. Please take a seat while I dress and ensure she does as well.”

“Yes, of course,” Sanguini said, moving to set the bowl on the end table. The swirling blue fluid told Severus what he needed to know. It was a Pensieve.

“We will be a moment. I do hope you do not mind that we eat our morning meal as we speak.”

“Of course not.” The vampire nodded, sitting with the book in his hands. 

Severus left the room and moved upstairs. Hermione was on her way down, in one of his shirts and her sleeping shorts.

“Sanguini is here. We need to dress.” He asserted, stopping her descent sparing her the embarrassing shock of being in her sleeping clothes for an unexpected guest.

Hermione yawned and made a confused face. “Why so early?”

Moving to the bedroom, her a step ahead of him, Severus exhaled. “A lot happened yesterday, and we need to go over it. Anadora provided us with much to consider and work with.”

“Are you still making breakfast or do you need me to?” Hermione inquired, changing her clothing.

Severus did the same. “I will finish it once I have dressed, Sanguini has agreed to join us.”

“Thank you.” She hummed.

Thinking over everything that had been said the day before, Severus pursed his lips. There was one thing that she did not need to know or see. He had promised that until he had proof that her parents were alive that he’d not tell her anything about it. She needed to know that he would be barring her from seeing part of the conversation, for her sake.

“Hermione.”

Hermione turned, pulling his shirt back on over her bra. “Hmm?”

“Trust me if I tell you that there is something you do not need to see or hear when we are reviewing the memories. I will only withhold information if it is something we have already agreed on.” Severus explained, turning and taking two steps toward her.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that, but I trust you to not keep something important from you. No more secrets.” Hermione closed the space between them, her hands resting on his chest as she looked up at him.

He nodded, repeating the promise. “No more secrets.”

“I love you.” She said the words with such a sincere smile that he lost his breath for a moment. It was just enough of a pause that she caught him off guard, her lips pressing to his tenderly. It was nothing more than a peck, but her kisses seemed to always warm his chest.

He smiled down at her. “I know you do. I love you as well.”

Stretching her arms above her head, her smile was broken with a yawn. “I need coffee.”

“I share the sentiment. Come, let's go eat and entertain our guest.” Severus led the way, heading downstairs to make breakfast for them both. Hermione came down the stairs behind him, and he hoped that what they went over today would not upset her or send her backward in her healing progress. With the trial of her ex-husband looming on the horizon, he didn’t want anything to push her back.

Sanguini joined them at the dining room table as they had their breakfast and coffee. It was unusual, as that had been their time, but he excused the intrusion for the sake of hearing what the man had uncovered. 

Unlike them, Sanguini had not needed to sleep, so he’d been in the archives of the Council all night. As Sanguini described the vast collection of knowledge that the Council possessed, Severus was sure he saw Hermione chomping at the bit to go there and peruse the tomes. Not that he would ever feel safe with her in a vampire library—not after what he knew now.

The tome that Sanguini had ‘unofficially borrowed’ was on the interpretation of visions and a collection of symbolism in them. It would likely prove useful, as there was not a drop of Seer blood in Severus, and he did not suspect that Hermione, who had shunned all divination, had any inclination toward it.

Ever prepared, Sanguini had borrowed,  _ officially this time _ , a Pensieve for them to go over what had happened in detail. Severus had not thought about how they would review the meeting and was thankful that Sanguini was prepared for this situation. Sanguini had even jokingly explained that he’d brought his lunch, patting the chest pocket of his robe.

Once breakfast was over, the Pensieve was brought to the table. Severus had been eyeing Hermione, watching how comfortable she was with seeing what had been said in the dark cell. He was pleased to note that she seemed curious and not concerned. Maybe because it wasn’t Anadora in the flesh speaking that made it easier for her to handle. He made a note to ask her later, once everything was said and done.

“Severus, I do have to apologize for the amount of discourse that went over both Potter’s and your head. She is very arrogant and thinks that she is somehow still above me. She was refusing to acknowledge me until I told her quite clearly that I was the only being in that room that had the power to sway her fate,” Sanguini explained quietly. 

Tilting his head to the side, he considered the man and his own memory of the event. “When did you say that?”

Sanguini gave the briefest of smug smiles. “It was in expressions and telepathy. It is why she cowed and looked away.”

“I see. It explains some of the interactions.” Severus nodded.

Sanguini drew the memory from his mind, the thick silver line falling into the muddled pool. Severus shifted so that he was sitting next to Hermione, giving Sanguini his seat.

“We shall go over what we see bit by bit. I believe Maria gave away more than she thinks she did,” Sanguini offered, settling into the seat.

Hermione had been quietly observing both of them and seemed to speak up finally. “How do you know what she told you wasn’t a lie?”

“Miss Granger, we do not, which is why we are doing this,” Sanguini explained before Severus could start.

After a few moments of preparations and wards on the house so that they would not be disturbed, the three of them sunk into Sanguini’s memory of the day before. 

Severus was grateful that Sanguini had thoughtfully not included the part where he had spoken to Weasley. What had been said between them was not for Hermione’s ears, at least, not yet. However, he did have other things to concern himself with, as he was seeing through the senses of a vampire. Everything was brighter, louder, and more intense in every sense.

They were sitting in the room, facing Anadora as she tried to cajole mercy from him.

“What does she mean when she says that Severus has no idea what fate awaits her?” Hermione asked, and Sanguini stilled the memory to speak.

“Since she, Marietta, and Darcy brought your attention and ire to the Council, she will pay for the sins of the three of them. What awaits her is cruel beyond imagination.” Sanguini sighed, rubbing his nose. “Eternal torment waits for her. She will be converted to currency, a particular type of currency, where her anguish and pain will never end, and she will always be aware of it. Her soul will be bartered with and traded between hands for favours and payment.”

“Vampires use souls as currency?” Severus had not been aware of this particular facet of the underground society. Then again, he’d done his best in life to not get dragged into anything. He learned from what he’d already gotten himself into with the Dark Lord. 

Sanguini nodded. “It is an old practice and a punishment saved for those most deserving. To bring bad light to the Council of Nine is crime enough for that.”

“So they will rip her soul from her body and put her in a form of currency,” Hermione asked him, concern in her voice as she looked at the stilled visage of Maria Anadora in the memory.

The sound Sanguini made was full of discomfort. “She would be stored in something similar to a Tenebris cage, which has a mind and directive. This will be simply to keep her in torment for the rest of the time with no reprieve.”

Hermione’s face crinkled. “That’s barbaric!”

“I did not say it wasn’t. The old ways are not always the best.” Sanguini muttered, his hand moving and the memory snapping back into action.

Severus watched the unspoken argument between Sanguini and Maria and heard the vibrant threats that Sanguini had offered the woman when they had locked gazes.

_ I am the one that brought him here to hear your petition. Without me, your cries will go unheard. Keep pressing against me, lost one. I will suggest that we leave and you will be given to the Council with a scarlet bow. _

Severus had to admit, hearing that kind of tone from the mild vampire was a reminder that Sanguini had chosen to be the way he was. That he had all the potential to be more— to be a violent and angry being like other vampires he had encountered. While it was not a sweeping generalization, most vampires were either haughty or violent, and sometimes both.

“What do you mean, Sanguini, when you said that your contract is in writing and not souls when you spoke to her?” Hermione walked around the memory, looking over their faces. She did not seem bothered by the threats that had been delivered from the vampire in their presence.

Sanguini chuckled. “If I choose to break the contract between myself and the Council, my soul is not forfeit. I will only have to pay in blood or money. The contract that Marietta had agreed to was written in souls. Hers and yours to be exact.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, and Severus remarked internally that it looked very much like when he did it. “So, your bargain to be our envoy could have resulted in your soul being on the line.” 

“If I did not have some level of esteem with some of the Council before my departure from their ranks. Not everyone looks down on those that choose to live among mortals.” Sanguini cleared his throat.

Severus had wanted to ask earlier but had forgotten about Sanguini’s time at the Council. He’d never thought the man would be a part of something like had been described. Everything that he’d learned so far spoke of dark dealings and intrigue, of power behind thrones and bloodshed. Sanguini conducted himself in such a way that it was hard to place him embroiled in it. However, Sanguini had been trying to remain out of its radar; it made more and more sense that he’d been involved and running from it. Much like Severus avoided anything that had to do with his time with the Death Eaters.

The memory continued, with Maria being her arrogant self and acting as if she had some kind of power left. Severus wanted to wipe the smirk off her face now as much as he did then. There was no repentance for that she’d done, no sorrow or regret. In fact, she almost seemed proud of the chaos and pain she had sown.

Hermione seemed to have the same knee jerk reaction to the woman asked to be turned into a thrall instead of death that Severus had in that moment. Her face paled and she looked at him, eyes wide in both horror and confusion. 

_ Good, she knows what a thrall is too...  _ Severus commented internally.

“Why would she want that? I mean, being soul currency is horrible, but to give up herself. Her everything, her mind?” Hermione’s fingers covered her aghast expression.

“The Council is all she has ever known. Her desperation to be back there in any capacity makes me sure that if you really wanted to punish her, you’d let her rot the rest of her days in Azkaban, as far away from the Council’s touch as possible.” There was a whisper of a sadist in the vampire’s voice, and Severus picked up on it. He had reasons for his grudge, as he’d been drug into this fiasco unwillingly. The ones that had done the most damage were dead already, Severus could not fault him for wanting a little vengeance on the servant.

Hermione shook her head. “It would seem like a mercy to me to leave her in Azkaban after hearing all this.”

Sanguini’s voice was soft as he spoke to Hermione. “To you Miss Granger, but to her, it would be hell on earth.”

“We each have our own version of that hell.” Severus exhaled through his nose, knowing that for a fact. His hell had been living two lives on the edge of a blade, never knowing if he was going to survive from one day to the next.

Hermione agreed somberly. “We do.”

The memory continued through Maria’s sad story of how she came to be in the clutches of the Council. It stirred up the small bit of pity he had for the woman, as she had been a child when she’d been introduced to that world. Deep within, Severus wished he could kill Darcy a second time for good measure. Those that prey on children deserved a certain kind of punishment, at least, according to Severus.

Maria talked through the meeting with them watching it, her words drawing on the vicious plan developed to destroy their lives. Severus wished he’d sensed this before now. If he had known that forces were working against him from so far back, he might have been more vigilant— perhaps Anadora would not have been able to slip past his detection. But he’d given up many of his defences because there was no war, and he had to only protect himself from the scrutiny and scorn of the world.

The strain of being in a Pensieve for so long began to wear on him. As Maria alluded to an ally they might find, Severus looked to his vampiric companion.

“We should take a break from this. Perhaps you can illuminate who this Marquis of Blood is while my headache subsides.” Severus asked, rubbing his head. The pressure behind his eyes was not too much yet, but he knew that too long in memory would cause him to be laid up for the rest of the day.

Sanguini nodded and with a flick of his hand, they were back in the dining room, faces lifting from the Pensieve. While it had seemed that time had barely passed, his mind was still coping with the time spent reliving the day before. Blinking his eyes furiously, he pinched the bridge of his nose to hold some of the pressure back.

“Marquis of Blood?” Hermione asked with scrutiny. “I suspect he was a very gory killer.”

Sanguini seemed to pale, his words a breathy whisper. “Dante was, or I suppose still is, a kin-slayer.”

“He killed vampires.” She asked, rubbing her head along the inside of her eyes.

Severus realized they both needed something for the strain and he stood, moving to the kitchen as he listened to Sanguini explain the situation.

“He hunted them down for sport, or at least that was how the stories went. The tome I researched painted a very different tale. It was vengeance for his murdered wife.” The vampire spoke as if he were talking of a ghost that haunted him.. There was a tremor of fear in those words and it concerned Severus that they were considering making an ally of someone who could instil that in Sanguini. Sanguini was not necessarily powerful, but he was not a weakling either.

“The death of his soul-bound wife.” Severus offered, having remembered what he’d been told.

Hermione made a squeak and sat up straight. “He had a soulmate wife, and she was murdered?”

“Yes, we have not gotten to that part of Maria’s story.” Sanguini offered sadly. “And before we do, I think it prudent that we go over the other seats. You should have a picture of what you will be encountering at this meeting.”

Severus agreed, pulling two headache potions from the cabinet. He poured himself another cup of coffee and carried the vials to the dining room table. Offering one to Hermione, he downed his own in a swift gulp. The coolness ran down the back of his throat and he let out a sigh of relief. His eyes fell on her as she took the potion as well. 

The smile she gifted him spoke of gratitude. Severus reached over and touched her hand in quiet acknowledgement.

Sanguini went for the large book he’d set on the chair next to him, pulling out a parchment that looked like handwritten notes. The vampire had not been joking when he said he’d spent the night looking into everything.

“There are nine seats in the Council. Hence the name.” Sanguini began to explain. Showing his notes to them, he began to list the essential points of those who held a seat and why they did.

“The leader was a vampire known as the Elder. His name was Ivan Aulus; his true name lost the songs of time. He was the oldest, hailing from 3000 BCE, give or take a hundred years,” Sanguini explained. “He was known for being cold and cruel, unmoving with the times since he had watched the rise and fall of many civilizations.”

“He’s not very fond of me. Or anyone like me. Thinks that I am beneath myself for cohabitating with mortals.” Sanguini offered with a shrug and a sigh.

“So, not an ally.” Severus chimed in, looking at the notes.

Sanguini made a face as if he had just eaten a grass every-flavour bean. “Not in the slightest. He would more likely kill you than agree to a bargain.”

Severus sneered. “Noted.”

“Darcy’s sire sits to the right of the Elder. She is a child-kin vampire, made long before there were rules against it. Her body is about that of a twelve-year-old, but she was said to have been made in 1000 BCE. Her ruthlessness, lack of concern and cruelty are hard to rival. The fact that she used Dragon Pox as a test is a light handed approach for her.” Sanguini’s face twisted up at the description, his fangs visible with his distaste.

_ A child vampire made Darcy and gave him a child as a pet… _ The more he heard, the more he disliked the idea of being in a room with these beings. Not only were they in danger, but they would be consorting with those he considered lesser than demons.

“That is horrifying,” Hermione gasped, shaking her head. “To use the Pox—how many others died from it?”

“Countless, but she could care less. She was testing her son’s resolve, and the strength of his quarry.” Sanguini groused.

Sanguini continued to describe each in turn, but they did not hold Severus’s interest. They seemed to be less of a threat than what the first two had been described as. A child vampire in a place of power and an Elder one hailed from civilization's beginning were dangerous enemies. They were powers he was not ready to contend with. They would need more than cunning and tricks that they’d used against Darcy to come out of this intact.

Once again, this Dante was brought up and Severus listened as his friend retold Hermione what he’d said at the meeting. The vampire’s sire had made him kill his soulmate in a blood frenzy and it had moved the man to hunt his own. It was described as an unanswerable crime, one that this Dante was willing to drown in the blood of his kin to seek vengeance.

Not that Severus wanted to think about it, but he would imagine he could do the same, should someone force him to harm Hermione. Shaking from the thought, he listened, thinking he knew the tale.

But Sanguini went into more detail now, explaining how such a kin-slayer could have a seat of power. It seemed the Council had feared him so much that they gave him a seat to spare their own necks. His sire had a chair, and they had placed them side by side, hoping that one would eventually kill the other. It seemed that the hope had not turned in their favour, as the Marquis of Blood had taken his sire’s seat by right of conquest, placing his son in that seat.

“But he may be willing to aid us because Maria was not lying. She has returned to him.” Sanguini explained.

Hermione looked at him and then to Severus with confusion. “How?”

Severus shrugged and gestured to the Pensieve. “I am not sure how that works, but it is what Maria told us.”

“Perhaps I can explain.” Sanguini leaned his elbows against the table. “Her soul was reborn, and through fate and chance, they found each other and bound once more. Which is why he will fight against any attempt to sever the two of you.”

“As will I.” Severus felt protective suddenly; the notion of someone trying to separate or sever what they had made his stomach roll.

The man sitting across from him at the table nodded, smirking knowingly. “Of this, I am sure. His bride will likely spur him to act as well. She will have a certain sentiment for what Darcy and his bride did to you, Hermione.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

Severus rose an eyebrow at her, wondering what part she was questioning. Obviously, Sanguini knew enough about both of them to act as an envoy and the whole world knew now that her ex-husband had killed his own child. 

“Lord Delacrux and Lady Delacrux have borne a son in this century. A Dhampir, the firstborn to a Council seat in nearly 500 years. The Dhampir Jace holds the seat his father has claimed.” Sanguini paused as if he was considering his next words wisely. “But the Lady Delacrux bore that child under tough circumstances, and neither were set to survive. Many attempts were made on her life. She also yet lives. Her heart beats and she is for the most part counted among the living. The coldness of our kind has not touched her, and she will feel empathy for a mother who has lost.”

Severus watched as Hermione’s eyes closed, and he knew she understood now that Sanguini meant to tell the woman about what had happened to her son. He reached for her hand. Her fingers closed around his and he silently offered her his support.

Hermione was quiet for a moment before looking back at Sanguini.“I don’t want to use that against someone. Or to make them feel pity for me.”

“I would never allude to that; however, it may help draw a powerful ally, one who could speak fiercely on your behalf.” Sanguini offered his hand out in earnest.

Hermione cleared her throat and sighed. “So you want us to talk to this Delacrux and see if they will offer support in getting the Council to leave us the hell alone? Because that is all I want.”

“Yes. Depending on how it all folds out, they may even be able to help mark you as, how do you say it — untouchable, forbidden fruit. Those who cannot be harmed by anyone under Council rule.” Sanguini approached the topic with caution, evident by how he held his hands on the place on the table. Like Severus, Sanguini watched Hermione’s emotional state, although Severus surmised that Sanguini’s was more out of fear of her wrath than Severus’s concern for her mental health.

“Which means only those like you could bother us.” Hermione expressed thoughtfully.

Severus did not miss the brief expression of pain on Sanguini’s face before he took up a neutral gaze. “Those like me care little for interfering in the lives of mortals we are not attached to.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” Hermione gasped, reaching out across the table to touch the man’s hand. “I only meant —”

“None taken.” Sanguini waved his hand and looked at the metal bowl in front of them. “I do think we should move on to the prophecy and start interpreting it. I think I know what much of it means, but we must know what they think it means.”

“She knew the prophecy,” Hermione asked, looking curiously at the metal bowl at the centre of the table.

Sanguini shut the massive tome, moving it away as he slid the Pensieve so that the three of them could enter it again. “She says that she did. I did my best to uncover a copy of it, and all I can find is what she recited, so I believe she did not deceive us.”

“What did it say?” Hermione’s eyes moved to Severus. 

He could feel the weight of her gaze. He knew that she would have liked to hear it before Sanguini was there—if only so that she could be more prepared. Severus would have told her, had not other things happened, and more pressing matters had not subjected them to his emotions. “Let us return to the memory so that you may hear it for yourself.”


	80. Reasonable conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Hermione.

Hermione’s head was swimming with all this new information. If it had not pertained to her own life, Hermione would have wanted to ask more about the ins and outs of this society that seemed well under the radar of the Ministry of Magic. Hermione had worked in the Department of the Regulation of Magical Creatures; she thought she knew a lot about them. This told her that she, like her former colleagues, had only ever dipped their toes into the world that these ancient beings lived in. The fact that they were still classified as creatures when they had this level of structure seemed an injustice to her. It would have made her want to champion them if they hadn’t been the instrument that had tried to both kill her and ruin her. 

Instead, it made her frustrated and just a touch disheartened. While she did not understand immortality as one who possessed it, it seemed like a squandered opportunity to waste that time and knowledge and power on being cruel and controlling. 

She tried to not take that frustration out on Severus and Sanguini. She’d misspoken when she said that people like Sanguini would be left to come after them. Of all the vampires she’d ever met, it seemed like those who chose to live among mortals were the most even-keeled. Her experience was also limited to murderers, psychopaths, and those few feral vampires that would cross her desk as something to investigate and send a hunter team after.

It would have helped her prepare if Severus had told her what this prophecy had said, but she wasn’t mad at him. He’d had much to deal with last night— things that needed to be conquered and resolved for his sanity. She’d never seen him that upset before, and it made her happy that he could be that vulnerable with her. She felt closer to him now, even more than she had before, and it made it hard to be upset about it.

Hermione shook her head from her thoughts as the Pensieve moved between the three of them again.

Severus looked at her when she asked him what it had said. “Let us return to the memory so that you may hear it for yourself.”

Steeling herself for the worst, Hermione placed her face into the cold swirling liquid that held Sanguini’s memory.

Hermione moved through the memory, looking at Maria intensely. This woman had befriended her. Had made an attempt to be kind, all under the pretense to get close to her to destroy her. It would have been a lie if she said it didn’t hurt, just a touch to know this.

The woman in question leaned back and, in a haunting voice, began to sing out the words that had changed her very life. Maria was almost in a trance; Hermione could see by the way she was breathing slowly. Never having put much stock in divination, she didn’t expect what came from the woman to be so very accurate.

By the second verse, Hermione knew that it was talking about her and Severus. There was no way in the world that two other people could be being described. By the fourth verse, she felt like she was trembling.

It spoke of a child, of her holding a child in her arms. Her heart squeezed and she pressed her eyes closed, trying to listen and interpret it. It started to not make sense, fanged crowns and second suns. Hermione could tell that apparently, she was the force of change in their world that they feared. Severus seemed to be the catalyst to her.

But the word ‘ _cubs_ ’ hit her heart like a hot knife, dividing it in twain. 

They had not taken just a chance for Severus and her to have a child, but children. There was no other way to interpret that line. If they had let her and Severus be and bond when he was first recovering, they would have had children. 

She didn’t realize she’d sobbed until they were suddenly ejected from the memory and Severus’s arm wound around her shoulder, pulling her close.

“I’m fine.” She tried to gasp out against the wall of emotions that had risen from the revelation.

Severus still held his arm around her, lifting her chin to look at him. “I find that it is much harder for you to lie to me when there are tears in your eyes.”

Swallowing back, Hermione closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm. Drawing on her logical side, she reminded herself that prophecies were not always right. Hermione was mourning something that was possibly the same rubbish as Trelawny’s babbling. Even though she could feel the magic of the words sinking into her chest, Hermione needed to tell herself that it was never set in stone. 

“I’ll be fine.” Hermione gasped out, feeling calm and setting into the cool collection that occluding from her emotions offered.

His thumb ran down her face and Hermione opened her eyes to see his black ones probing for answers with concern.

“It was the fact that the seer foresaw children, wasn’t it.” He breathed out as if they were the only two in the room.

She nodded, unwilling to lie to him about the hurt she felt at hearing it. “You and I both know that things like this aren’t always accurate.”

“And we both know a young man in which they entirely were right. It is alright to be upset.” Severus lifted his brows ever so slightly.

Hermione put her hand on his, her fingers running down the knuckles, using the contact to still the ache in her chest. “Not now. I need to think and be here. When did this Seer supposedly see all this.”

“May 18th, 1998,” Sanguini said, clearing his throat.

She blinked and turned to look at him curiously, not knowing why, but she knew that date. Hermione didn’t know how or why, but that date seemed familiar to her.

“Wait a moment.” She jumped from her seat, untangling from Severus.

He seemed startled, but she waved her hand, rushing upstairs. Something about that date took hold of the back of her mind. Opening the beaded bag, Hermione pulled out her journal from the war and the end of it. She’d been very diligent in keeping notes about Severus’s condition when she was caring for him. It’d been a way to stay sane among the insanity that was spiraling around her.

Heading back down the stairs, taking them two at a time, she flipped through the pages. For some reason, she knew that there was something that had been important about that date. Dropping heavily into the chair, Hermione continued to move through the days after the battle.

**_May 12th_ ** _ \- Professor Snape’s heartbeat continues to plunge randomly. I have spent the whole night holding his hand and monitoring his vitals. Ron says to just let him die. I will not give up on him. He never gave up on us. After what Harry showed me in the Pensieve, I will not doubt that he fought for our survival. _

**_May 13th_ ** _ \- He made the first noise that Poppy or I have heard. It was a low gurgle and we were afraid that he was drowning. It turned out it was the way his head was in the pillow, making it hard for him to breathe. I fixed it so he can breathe easier. The wound has closed on his next, but it seeps venom still. No sleep again. _

**_May 14th_ ** _ \- Napped for a few hours but was woken up by Harry. Seems they are still going to try to put Professor Snape on trial. He is barely clinging to life and they want to parade him around as some villain. Heart rate is still bouncing and I will not let them kill him with this posturing. _

**_May 15th_ ** _ \- A bad fever popped up in the night. He is burning up and all I can do to offer him comfort is cooling charms and a cold, wet cloth. He seems to still at the softest of touches and presses his face into them. I’m taking it as a sign that he is still with us and is still fighting. As long as he fights, I will.  _

**_May 16th_ ** _ -He cries in this his sleep, no sound, just tears running from his eyes. I wipe them away and the face he makes is pitiful. My heart breaks for him. Ron wanted me to come for drinks to celebrate. I can’t leave him now; what if he dies while I am gone and could have saved him. His heart rate has steadied, but I am still fighting this fever. I haven’t slept well in a few days, but I see him covered in blood every time I fall asleep. I may need to take a dreamless sleep when I finally get a chance to rest. _

**_May 17th_ ** _ -They came to take him today. The idiots honestly came to try to take a dying man to Azkaban. I have never seen Minerva so angry. Then again, I had bodily put myself between the Aurors and him. They would have had to get through me to take him, and I told them as much. Seemed to shake some sense into Shaklebolt. I would have never drawn a wand on the man before this, but I will not relent. He saved our lives, all of us, and I will be damned if I let him die in that hell without a chance. After they left, Minerva told me to get some rest. She knows I haven’t slept. I don’t want to leave him. Even though the fever broke this morning and his heart rate had steadied, I’m afraid he will take a turn for the worse in the time I take to sleep. _

**_May 18th_ ** _ \- I was forced into sleep by Poppy. She tucked me into a hospital bed next to him. I made her swear if he took a turn to wake me. Instead, I was woken up because of good news. He made some progress. His eyes opened and he looked at me. It was only for a moment, but I know he recognized me, I know he is still in there and the poison has not addled his mind. He looked like he was grateful. It was clearly some kind of relief there in that flicker of recognition. I’m not giving up on him. Come hell or high water, I am not. After his eyes closed again, Poppy said that he seemed to have stabilized. We might be out of the danger zone, but until he’s back to insulting me and taking points, we aren’t out of the woods. _

“It was the day you first opened your eyes; it was when I knew you were still there with us,” Hermione explained, showing Severus the journal. 

Severus looked at her curiously, eyes flicking over her notes. His long fingers extended for it. “May I?”

She offered the book over to him, considering the date. It had been the first glimmer of hope in a situation that she’d been deny was hopeless. It had been what had told her that it was worth it. Had that confirmation sent some ripple through the ether and caused this. 

“I never knew any of this. I thought the first time they came for me was after I had woken.” His dark eyes were running back and forth over her handwriting.

She shrugged in her seat, realizing that it had never been something they talked about. “I didn’t think to tell you. Minerva and I hadn’t slept much at the time. It was all a blur until you were fully awake.”

“This was five months before I was fully aware.” Severus’s voice seemed to hold a measure of awe.

Hermione nodded at him.“Yeah, I know.”

“And you took notes on my condition every day.” He looked at her. 

Hermione felt him looking at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. He’d looked at her like this before and it warmed something in her chest. 

Her lips turned up into a soft smile at his expression. “I needed to, in case you turned for the worst.”

“Well, it seems that the vampires were not able to actually determine what happened that day. They said you stabilized me and that is what caused this. How many people did you tell I had opened my eyes and looked at you?” Severus quired, his eyes going back to her journal.

She had to think about it, it was a long time ago. Almost another lifetime compared to what had happened in the time between then and now.“Poppy and I were the only ones there. I think I told Minerva, but that was it.”

“Not Potter or Weasley?” Severus rose an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. In those days, we were all over the place.”

He returned to his reading, flipping the page. His eyes looked over the page, and then he closed it between his hands, offering it back to her. “I’d like to read over this at a later time if you don’t mind. I was never informed of my condition before waking.”

“Feel free; there is nothing in there that I would hide from you. At least not that I remember.” Hermione said, taking the journal and sitting it on the table between them.

Sanguini cleared his throat. “If I may, can we return to this mystery before us?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry, I just- I knew that date in my gut.” Hermione nodded, feeling better than she’d resolved the sensation.

“It may yet prove useful.” Sanguini offered, unrolling a parchment on to the table. “I have taken the liberty of writing the prophecy down so that we can use this tome to draw from it what the Council may have seen it as.”

“So, we don’t have to listen to it again?” Her voice raised slightly in pitch.

Severus’s hand found it’s way over hers. “Not unless you want to.”

“Good. If I am looking at it, it might be easier to interpret.” Hermione had no desire to hear it again.

“I have already figured some of the basics. If I may.” Sanguini said, moving the Pensieve and putting the parchment in the center of the table. Hermione leaned forward, looking at the flowing script of Sanguini’s handwriting.

The vampire began to explain what he had managed to decipher from the words. 

The first four lines were an introduction, but they also seemed to speak of another powerful force — a force of nature— at work. Sanguini seemed to believe that it was magic trying to balance out the events of the war.

Following that, it was evident to the three of them that the next set introduced Hermione and Severus. She was not keen on being known as the one with accursed blood of mud. In fact, it stirred that little bit of anger that she felt anytime someone called her a ‘ _mudblood_.’ Her forearm itched even as she thought about it. 

Also, there was no other who had served two ‘masters’ and had venom in his veins at that time. And Hermione had shielded him, on that very day she had shielded him from the Aurors who wanted to take him to Azkaban. 

_ Had that been the catalyst for all this?... _

“The third speaks of our soul bond,” Severus said, pointing to the four rhyming lines.

Sanguini nodded. “The Aureum Cord, which holds you together as soulmates, is clearly outlined and decreed to be located by the two of you.”

Hermione tilted her head. “So even though they fought to stop it, it still happened.”

Sanguini made a face, one that looked as if he would tell her something she didn’t like. “I believe, and it is just my belief, but their interference actually caused it to happen. Some futures are like that. They come because of the action taken from hearing it.”

“So you are saying if they hadn’t taken action, then this might not have happened at all.” It was difficult for her to reconcile the wishy-washy nature of the magic they were dealing with.

Severus nodded, his eyes still not leaving that which they were examining. “There is that chance. There is also the chance that it was going to happen one way or another. Such as in Mr. Potter’s case.”

Rubbing her head, she grumbled. “And, of course, because Divination is bonkers, there is no way to tell which you are dealing with.”

“Precisely.” Severus did not seem any more impressed with the notion than she was. “However, some of us actually attended our classes and know how to look for signs and portents in words offered.”

Hermione felt her eyes go wide, and she looked at Severus in disbelief. “You took Divination?”

Severus’s lip curled up as he turned to her, eyebrow rising.“Do I strike you as one who would have taken some other elective? Arithmancy was to be polite— boring. And I had no desire to go through muggle studies, as I was well aware of that world on my own. It was a course that Lily took with me, but Potter and his gang thought it was beneath them. In addition to Care of Magical Creatures, which I left in my sixth year to take Alchemy.”

“There were enough students to offer Alchemy in your sixth year?” Hermione felt a twinge of jealously. It had been a class that she’d read about in Hogwarts, a History, but there were not enough students who wanted it to warrant a study. 

He smirked at her as if he could sense she was envious. “There was.”

“I never got the chance to take that course. I read about it, of course, but it is not the same as being instructed in the practicals.” She explained to him.

“Hmm, how lucky you are then, to be involved with the Professor who can teach it, should there be a demand.” Severus inclined his head toward her.

A bubble of joy climbed into her chest, and she forgot what they had been talking about to turn to him excitedly. “You’d teach me Alchemy?”

He twisted his lips, looking at the ceiling before smiling at her. “I think I could be persuaded to take the time to do so.”

Sanguini chuckled, a smile on his face as tapped the parchment. It brought Hermione back to what they had been discussing.

“As I was saying, the fourth group of lines is, well, about the two of you in a rather intimate position.” The vampire offered, his face amused 

“Oh, um. Yes.” Hermione agreed, looking at the grouping. To read about her and Severus described in such a fashion did make her face red. And that also stuck out to her; what did ‘Red fire’ mean? Was it some metaphor for passion? She didn’t know, but she rather focus on that than the line about a birth.

“First Moon can mean January, or it can mean the first moon of this intended child’s life. Since there is no marker for what the ‘potent eve’ was supposed to be, it is impossible to determine what astrological event this is alluding to.” Sanguini seemed to sense that she didn’t want to talk about the last line.’

Severus made a humming sound and rubbed his chin. “Moons and Suns seem to play an important theme. Yet, there is no mention of stars. It is likely not talking about actual astrological events, but something those symbols represent. Perhaps some kind of stage or series of events that have to happen.”

“Or a place.” Hermione offered, trying to think of what the symbolism could be.

Severus agreed with her. “Yes, or a place that these celestial bodies are represented by.”

“Let me see what the tome says on that.” Sanguini cracked open the thick tome, folding the pages over as he scanned for answers for them.

Hermione continued reading the prophecized words. “Awakening serpent’s harms makes me think of your bite. But, there is no venom in your blood. I made sure of that, so what other harms could it mean.”

“Perhaps I am the serpent, or perhaps someone else is.” Severus gathered thoughtfully.

She shook her head, reading it over again. “It just doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“That is the beauty and the beast of divination.” Severus gave a humored snort. “Ten people can see the same words and take away ten different meanings.”

Sanguini interjected, still looking over the book. “I think that the Council sees Severus as the serpent and that having a child might have instilled some protective nature in him.”

“A reasonable conclusion. Which is why they would have made the moves they did to prevent it.” He turned to Hermione and she watched his gaze soften. “My apologies if speaking of -this upsets you.”

She looked into Severus’s eyes and sighed. It did upset her, but there was no way around the topic at hand. Hermione had thought that her infertility was an accidental side effect of the damage from losing her son. The fact that it had been an end goal because of these words hurt. But it did so much more than hurt. Hermione tried to put it into words for Severus. “I will be alright. This whole thing bothers me and knowing that they took that away from me. From us. Well, it makes me a little less sad and a lot angrier.”

It almost looked like pride on his face as she told him she was angry and Severus nodded. “Anger is expected from something like this. I find myself angry too.”

“Even though you are not my soulmate, I am also rather pissed off about this whole ordeal, if it makes you feel any better, Hermione.” Sanguini rumbled, eyes still on the weathered pages.“I have told Severus repeatedly that were it me in his shoes, I would have razed the Council until there was naught but ashes and a heavy-handed reminder of what comes when you mess with someone’s lover, soulmate or otherwise.”

The image made her chuckle nervously. Hermione did not want to think about what would force the mild-mannered vampire into being a force of that kind of destruction. She’d seen him once before in a fight and it had reminded her that he was capable. “I have a hard time, knowing you as I do, seeing you raze something to the ground. Not that you are not capable, it is just not how I see you.”

“That is because I do not wish to instill fear of such a thing into you. Be assured, if ever the time came to it that I needed to, I could indulge in some of my, shall we say darker, nature.” Sanguini smirked, seemingly pleased with himself.

Hermione nodded her head. “I hope I never have to be on the other end of it.”

“I doubt you could be Miss Granger.” Sanguini chuckled. “From what I know you, you’d never do the things to put yourself on my shit list. And besides, we are friends. You’ve got more leeway.”

“And it seems your shit list is something they fear. The next set of lines speak of you reworking arcane law. So either you bend the rules of magic or bring some pretty heavyhanded legislature to the Ministry. Something that changes the way they can operate.” Severus explained, turning the parchment and drawing her attention to it. “An even unlikelier thing would be you rewriting vampire law.”

That sounded insane to her, her rewriting the vampires' laws, mostly when they wanted her dead. “How would I rewrite vampire law? I am not a vampire.”

“Not all of the laws came from vampiric hands.” Sanguini offered. “I cannot find where the Moon and Sun represent anything but time. This may not have been the book I needed after all.”

Hermione reread the whole thing again to herself. So much didn’t make sense to her, but it felt like it should have. Almost like a puzzle, where the answer was staring her in the face, only she didn’t know how to look for it.

‘Who wears a fanged crown?” She asked curiously.

Sanguini cleared his throat. “The elder.”

That was wasn’t comforting at all. That was the leader of this group who was older than history. “So, they think I’m going to kill him?”

“Or do something that puts him out of power.” Severus offered. He reached for the book that Sanguini had given up looking through and it was passed to him.

Hermione mulled it over in her mind. “Someplace where there is a second sun.”

“It seems so.” Sanguini agreed.

With this in front of her, Hermione couldn’t help but feel like they were missing some critical piece. Sure, it sounded complete but was it really. Had Maria held something back or was there something she’d not even known. Hermione couldn’t shake that it didn’t feel like they had everything in front of them. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. I am not a trained hunter from the Ministry, I’m not. I could hold my own, maybe against a vampire if I was prepared, but how am I a threat.”

Sanguini shook his head, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a steel flask, taking a drink from it..“Hermione, we cannot see the way our enemies see us. To you, you are just Hermione. To the wizarding world, you are the brightest witch of her age. To them, you seem like maybe, a long-overdue reckoning.”

“I will agree with her; something is missing, some piece of this.” Severus had the thick book in his lap, examining a page.

Hermione watched as Sanguini took another drink from the flask before tucking it into his pocket once more. “This is all I was able to gather from both Maria and from the Council.”

“It doesn’t mean they aren’t hiding anything.” It would have been easy to leave out a verse or two if only to make sure that the information was kept private.

Severus agreed again.“It does not. In fact, it makes more sense that they would conceal some of this for themselves.”

Sanguini nodded his head and frowned. “I will, of course, look more into it. Perhaps when I speak to the envoy of Lord Delacrux, I can petition for that information.”

“Are we meeting with him?” Hermione wanted to know. It would be something they would have to prepare for as well. 

Sanguini explained. “I think it would be beneficial.”

“You seem afraid of him.” It wasn’t as if Sanguini had tried to hide that and Hermione didn't want him to do something that he thought might bring him to harm.

The man across the table sighed. “Not any more than you are afraid of a dragon or a werewolf. Something that could eat you.”

Hermione had faced dragons and wasn’t any less wary for the experience.“That is pretty afraid. Will you be alright.”

“I shall. I don't think that Lord Dante is in the business of kinslaying anymore, and if he is, then my association with you might be enough protection. Do not worry about me. I think I will suggest we meet after the mess of your ex-husbands trial.” Sanguini seemed to change the subject to the time rather quickly.

Severus looked up, “I have to agree; we will have much on our plate the next week.”

Hermione agreed with them both. It seemed like her whole summer was going to be nothing but meetings and preparing for them. She’d become spoiled by their peaceful first month together and she knew it.

The rest of the day was spent going over and trying to interpret what Maria had given them. By the time the sun set, her head had hurt badly. They’d formulated several possible meanings and even talked about what to do about Maria. 

The fact that Severus had made it clear that her fate was in Hermione’s hands made her feel both better and worse. She was conflicted because some small part wanted to be the bigger person and give her mercy. It was significantly overshadowed by hurt and anger, which wanted to make her suffer. It would be something she would have to consider and try to choose what she could sleep at night with. That only added to the headache.

Sanguini had left after spending the entire day with them. At this point, all Hermione wanted to do was rest her eyes and possibly take a bath. Rubbing her head, the latter seemed like a good idea. It would loosen the tight muscles. Severus had gone to the kitchen, likely to make another pot of tea.

Hermione took herself upstairs and drew a hot bath. She figured Severus would be able to hear where she was if he wanted to talk to her. Hermione sunk into the water, letting out a hiss at the heat until her body adjusted to it. From her head to her toes, she was tense. The more they went over those words, the more it had knotted into her chest. She didn’t want to admit how upset she was. It was hard for her to process herself. She didn’t want to cry; it wasn’t that kind of feeling. It was almost as if it just hurt. Pain as an emotion instead of a physical sensation. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the cold tub.

There was a rap of knuckles on the door and Severus’s voice was heard through the door. “Hermione.”

“Yes.” Not opening her eyes, she answered him.

Muffled by the wood, Severus’s voice was distorted but understandable. “Are you alright? How is your head?”

“It still hurts, but the bath is helping.” She answered him, moving her hands through the hot water.

“When you get out, I can rub some soothing salve into your temples if it will help. It has already helped me.” Severus offered.

Hermione thought about it for a moment, and then she called out to him. “If you want, you can come in.”

“I do not want to invade your privacy.” He told her through the door.

It made her smile that he was still very respectful of when she was nude, even though she was getting much more comfortable with him.“I am inviting you.”

“In that case, let me get the salve.” She heard him,

A moment later, Severus opened the door, stepping into the steaming room. She opened her eyes but did not lift her head, smiling at him. She moved her arm so that if he wanted to sit on the side of the cast iron tub, he could.

He seemed to be trying to decide what he wanted to do.

Hermione closed her eyes, exhaling deeply as she relaxed into the water. She heard him take the few steps across the room. “You can sit on the tub; I won’t splash you, Gryffindor Honor.”

“I find Gryffindor Honor is another way of crossing your fingers behind your back.” He teased her.

“I promise I won’t.” Hermione’s eyes met his and she smiled softly.

Severus knelt down next to the tub. “It will be easier if I sit here.”

“If that is what you wish to do.” She shrugged, the water shifting with the movement. 

The next thing she knew, his fingers were on her temples, rubbing the cool mint salve into her skin in firm circles. Hermione closed her eyes, flexing her foot so that it sat on the other end of the tub. A pleased hum vibrated her throat. 

It reminded her of when she was adjusting to her glasses and he’d massage her head until she could see straight again. Except, this was exceedingly more intimate and private.

“I love you.” She whispered quietly.

Severus chuckled and she felt his lips on her forehead. “I love you too. Can I ask you to promise me something?”

“That depends on what the promise is?” Hermione whispered.

She heard him clear his throat. “Don’t let all this prophesy and madness send you back to the places you were before.”

She knew what he meant. It would be all too easy to hide in everything and revert back. Hermione didn’t want to go back to where she’d been. “I am trying.”

“I can tell that because if you weren’t, I suspect you would have been far more upset today.” He acknowledged her efforts while still massaging, his fingers now moving into her hair and rubbing her scalp.

“It hurts and I am angry, but I don’t feel like hiding in a hole,” Hermione explained, hoping he would accept that as the fact that she didn’t want to succumb to tears.

He hummed in approval. “That is all I ask of you, to not withdraw into yourself.”

“I can promise that I will try,” Hermione promised him.

Severus exhaled and she felt it move over her face. “That is good enough for me.”

She turned now in the tub, facing him. Something had started to nag at her senses, but not in a way that upset her. In a way that made her want to know more about how he really felt about this. “Are you really angry too? That they took all of that from us.”

“Yes, and no.” Severus offered her a contradiction, his fingers shifting so that he was cupping her face.

Hermione gave him a confused look. “Explain.”

He took in a deep breath and rest his elbows on the tub as he moved. “I am angry that there is a chance that we could have been together sooner, and it was tampered with. I am angry that I was not there to save you from the savage your ex-husband turned out to be. Yet, I know very well that there is a chance that the only reason we are as we are is because of what we have suffered. I am not the man I was those years ago, nor are you the woman you were. Fate has a rather cruel way of making things happen sometimes, and I have witnessed that. So yes, I am angry, but I know that there is no guarantee that we would have been together then either. You were a swotty know it all.”

His answer made her smile. “And you were a bit of a bastard.”

Severus looked as if she had offended him and he inclined his head to her. “I am still a bit of a bastard.”

“You are, aren’t you.” Hermione teased him, leaning up to kiss his lips.

He pressed back into the kiss and then drew back. “I am. However, not to you, when I can help it.”

“You got soft for the swotty know it all.” Hermione couldn’t help but snicker.

A wicked smile crept along the left side of his mouth. “On the contrary, the sensation can be very hard, depending on the circumstances.”

Hermione didn’t know how to respond, and so she just blushed, resting her chin on the side of the tub.

Severus frowned. “Was that too vulgar for your sensibilities?”

Shaking her head, she held a hand up to him. “No, just it’s still new to me, for us to be —”

“Openly sexually interested in each other and expressing that attraction?” He finished her sentence for her.

A nervous laugh escaped her. “Yes, and for you to be just a touch vulgar.”

“Would you like me to stop?” Severus grabbed one of her hands and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Beaming a smile at him, she sighed. “I don’t think I do, but I will tell you that I a much too tired for anything to be done about it.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “Hermione, you still need to learn that me voicing my attraction to you is not always a come hither. I am tired to my bones and want nothing more than to be in bed with you until I pass out.”

The fact that they were so tired was kind of frustrating. “We did hardly anything today and we are both exhausted.”

“Pensieve work for extended periods can do that it. And we did a lot of that.” Severus explained.

It made sense to her and she agreed.“We did spend a lot of time in it.”

“How is your head?” Severus asked as he moved to run his thumbs over her temples. His other fingers massaged her head.

Hermione closed her eyes at this. “Much better.”

The attention stopped and she felt him press lips to her forehead. “Then I am going to go get ready for bed and wait for you to join me.” He stood gingerly as if being on his knees on the floor in the bathroom had not been comfortable and stretched.

She wanted to join him in bed and the allure of a goodnight of sleep sounded good to her. “I won’t be long. I’m starting to prune.”

“And boil, your skin is red.” Severus pointed to her, shaking his head before leaving the bathroom.

Hermione was true to her word. Not much later, she was tucked into the bed with him, the house closed up for the night. Even with the burden of the prophecy over them, everything seemed as it should be. They were going to be okay, they had each other, and to Hermione, that was more than enough. Even with the looming threat of vampire plots and ploys, she felt secure in his arms.

* * *

**Dark Mysteries, Secret Meetings, and Vampire Society — What has ex-deatheater Severus Snape and his harlot Hermione Granger dragged the Boy-Who-Lived into?**

**It is well known that Severus Snape and Hermione Granger worked tirelessly to bring down one of the oldest pureblood families, the Weasley’s in recent months. Granger has no limits to how low she will stoop, and when paired with the dastardly and surly cunning of Severus Snape, it was only a matter of time before she turned on the next man in her sights.**

**I have it on good authority that Severus Snape, in the accompaniment of a vampire, lured Harry Potter to a secret meeting at Azkaban with a prisoner. That prisoner being the lover of Ron Weasley, who is also detained there. Snape and the vampire arrived before Potter and exchanged some heated words with Weasley before entering the spell sealed interrogation chamber.**

**It is hard to believe that Granger was so poorly treated by Weasley when she is already ‘the happiest she has ever been’ and that Severus Snape is getting ready to propose to her. I hope the Ministry comes to their senses before that unholy union becomes a reality.**

**Harry Potter arrived last, looking very flustered as if he didn’t really want to be there.**

**Our sources could not tell the readers what the secret meeting had been about, only that when the three men, well two men and one monster left, they were solemn as if some dark magic or ritual had been committed.**

**It is evident that Granger has gotten her claws deep into Severus Snape, almost the point where it hard to determine who is more of a threat to the wizarding world. Since the end of the battle, it had been well documented and known that Severus Snape’s Patronus is a doe in honor of his late love for Lily Potter. However, my source says that the potions master was not protected by a doe, but instead a lioness. What does that mean, you wonder. Was his affection for the boy’s mother a ploy, something to get him to speak on his behalf and protect him from the walls of Azkaban? And now, when that no longer works, have he and Granger shown their true colors.**

**I would not be surprised to find out that there had been something going on long before her marriage to poor Ronald Weasley. It was well documented that Granger sought out men of power in her school years, with her attachment to the likes of Viktor Krum and Harry Potter.**

**Who isn’t to say that the little harlot didn’t seek out some kind of ‘extra credit’ from the Potions Master when it was far from legal.**

**Regardless, there is much to speculate on this new development. What would those three need from the poor sad brokenhearted mistress of Ron Weasley? And only a week before the trial of his ‘attempted murder’ of Granger. Where Snape nearly bashed the man’s skull in. Did they threaten her, make her give her lover’s secrets. Or was it something even darker? Could they have forced Potter into some vampiric cult and we must now watch to see if he turns.**

**For years there was speculation that Snape was a vampire and his recent sightings with one only add to that narrative. What have we been letting teach our children?**

**I will be keeping my eyes and ears out, Readers to bring you more on this. Since I am no longer tethered to the restraints of that awful uncreative working environment of the Prophet, I can focus on the critical stories on the ones that matter most to the Wizarding World's safety.**

**Thank you for subscribing to my newsletter and I hope to have new development for you next week.**

**-Rita Skeeter**

  
  
  



	81. Memories and Secrets Unearthed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters will go back and forth in point of view. This is Severus's.
> 
> Short chapter, I know, but I am getting back into the swing and working. <3

Severus stood in the doorway to the spare room, eyeing the monolith to his past that he was going to tackle today. It had been put off for too long, and he wanted to do something special for her. With the added weight of the prophecy mixed into what she already had to manage with her ex-husband's trial, Severus considered she might have liked a space of her own, someplace to gather her thoughts and her work. It would be her version of his study. But first, he had to comb through the skeletons of the past thrown in here to be forgotten.

The house was quiet without her, and he found he did not relish it as much as he had before. Hermione had left the house shortly after breakfast to meet with her lawyer. While he had offered to go with her, he knew that she wanted to do this on her own. A stirring of pride overcame his chest—she’d faced so many of her demons in such a short time.

Speaking of demons, he needed to exorcise the one that lingered in this room. It wasn’t truly a demonic spirit from the pits of the Abyss, but something that had a grip on him nevertheless.

He’d been forced to house his enemy here, someone who had tormented and tortured him as a child along with his ‘friends’. Yes, Pettigrew was not the worst of them, but that did not help him sleep easy, knowing that the opportunistic turncoat was slumbering just across the hall from him. When he’d been strong enough to come home Severus had taken everything he didn’t want to look at anymore and shoved it into this room. 

Now it was time to face the music and excavate the space. It made him apprehensive, he didn’t know what he’d find left behind from the rat.

But standing there and thinking about it did not get it done. 

The first thing he did was open the window, clearing the air. With a flourish of his wand, the years of dust accumulated was expelled. Boxes sat unevenly stacked, some with the corners of the cardboard splitting and giving way under the weight thrust upon them. As much as he wanted to banish it all away, there were some things that he was sure he’d want to keep from the wreckage. That meant going through each box.

_Thank the powers that Greengrass can be long-winded…_ Severus mused, knowing that he would have until the afternoon to get through this disaster. He wanted to set up furniture in here before Hermione got home.

The next thing he did was dispel every single thing that had belonged to Peter from his home. If he did not recognize it, it was gone. There was no place for those memories in this house, not anymore. The old rickety bed that had served Severus in his teen years and Pettigrew through his occupation was summarily removed.

Already the heaviness of the room was gone. 

Sifting through the boxes, he determined he was accurate, most of this was rubbish. Threadbare clothes that he would never wear again, either because the didn’t fit him or who he was now. The only things of any merit were the last bit of his father’s vinyl collection, his mother’s cedar hope chest, and a box he was unwilling to open. The liquid scrawling on it said enough for him to know that he could not bring himself to be rid of it or look at its contents. 

‘Severus’s Memory Box 09-01-1960’

It was his mother’s handwriting and it should have been one of the boxes tucked away in the attic when Pettigrew came here, but he must have missed it. Not much of his mother survived his father, save for the memories that Severus stored within his mind. That box had untold stories in it and things he did not think he would ever be in the sound mind to face. With a flick of his wand, he sent it to the bottom of the stairs of his study, intent on moving it up once he was done here.

His wards told him of an entry through the floo, but the yelling is what made him lift his head.

“It wasn’t me, I swear it wasn’t  _ me _ ! Snape, are you here?”

The frantic ramblings of Potter reached his ears and Severus rolled his eyes, groaning.

Dismissing what had already been determined as garbage, Severus left the room, heading down to the ground floor. 

“Is it going to be a custom that you come into my home screaming your head off? This is the second time—” Severus halted his words at the bottom of the stairs in taking in the young man.

Potter looked frightened, clutching a cream-coloured parchment to his chest. His face spoke of running, being out of breath, and his green eyes were wide. “I swear on my children it wasn’t _ me _ , I didn’t say I word.” Potter’s words reeked of apology.

Severus rose an eyebrow, of all the things he knew about Harry Potter was he would never put something on the head of his children. Whatever had happened, Potter was worked up about it. “What are you going on about?”

“Skeeter, she  _ knows _ we were at Azkaban, and she wrote a bunch of rubbish,” Harry gasped out, sucking in a deep breath of air.

“Skeeter is no longer writing for the Daily Prophet if I recall?” Severus asserted, crossing his arms. 

Harry shook the piece of parchment in his hand— it was coated with her tell-tale green slanted script. “She started her own independent newsletter apparently. Dean handed this off to me.”

“Hand it here, Potter?” Severus demanded, uncoiling his fingers toward the Auror.

Harry passed it over. “I didn’t say a word.”

It was clear to Severus that he’d taken his threat seriously. “I believe you, now pull yourself together and let me read this?”

Ignoring Harry for a moment, Severus’s eyes scanned the newsletter. With the first words, his blood pressure rose. By the time he read the word ‘ _ harlot _ ’ regarding Hermione, Severus was ready to explode. His jaw tightening as he progressed, the edge crinkled under his grip.

_ ‘Severus Snape is getting ready to propose to her’ _

His shock skimmed over his nerves like ice water. His lungs stumbled on air, he swallowed harshly attempting to not choke. He knew that Potter was watching him, so he turned away, schooling his featured. 

_ That insipid cow.  _

Severus should have known better to have thrown that at Weasley. While he felt vindicated at the moment, the consequences stared back at him now, shaming him. This was not what he’d meant when he spoke to the idiot. 

The libellous work got worse by the syllable. Accusing him with a dark power over Potter to insinuating that he and Granger had been in an extra-marital affair was not enough for Skeeter. No, the wench had to attempt to spin a narrative that he’d been illicitly involved with an illegal minor—that he’d been with Hermione when she was a child.

Something needed to be done about Skeeter. Severus was not going to sit by and let her drag Hermione and himself through the mud. Not when it had been pleasantly quiet without her squawking from the Daily Prophet.

Taking in a calming breath, Severus internalized the outrage, condensing it down to an icy edge. 

Potter was not lying—there was no way he could have heard the exchange with Weasley due to his tardiness—therefore he would be spared the fate that Severus promised should something of the meeting leak to the press. 

Closing his eyes, he stilled his mind, slipping into his mindscape before he faced Harry.

“Where is she publishing from?” He growled, his lips twitching around the words.

The dark-haired man let out a nervous breath. “I—I don’t know? I didn’t think to check? I came straight here?”

Pinching his brow between his fingers, Severus paced. Anything he did had to be deliberated out, there was no point in having it splash back on Potter or worse, Hermione.

“Here is what you are going to do. You are going to find out where Rita Skeeter is housing her publication headquarters, and you are going to tell me where that is. And then, you are going to pretend you know nothing.”

“I can’t let you kill her Severus.” Harry sobered from his apprehension as he spoke. There again was the Head Auror and protector of the Wizarding World. 

Severus wanted to hex him for his shortsightedness. “Who said I was going to kill her? Killing her would put me in Azkaban, and I will not do that to Hermione.”

The Auror evaluated this statement. “Then what are you going to do?”

Severus wasn’t entirely sure at that moment what he was going to do, he still needed time to determine how best to exact vengeance for her words on her. “Have you ever heard the expression of taking someone down a peg?”

“Yes?” Harry leaned to the side, forehead furrowing with unspoken questions.

He found it hard to not snarl as he spoke her name. “Miss Skeeter is about to come down several pegs. How she fares once she lands will be up to her.”

“I will see what I can do?” Potter scanned around the library, curiously. “Where is Hermione?”

It wasn’t anyone but Hermione’s business where she was. If she had not told Harry, then Severus was not about to. “Out. I suspect she will be furious when she returns home.”

“Yea, she and Skeeter have a history.” A grimace crossed Harry’s face, and he ran his hand through his shaggy hair. If Severus had not been furious at Skeeter, it would have nauseated him how much he looked like his father at that moment. Potter continued. “I would have thought that Skeeter would have left her alone since Hermione didn’t tell anyone she is an unregistered Animagus.”

Severus turned on the young man, his eyes narrowed. “What?” 

“Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus.” The young man shrugged like this was no big development. “Hermione kept her in a jar for a good part of the summer.”

Surely he heard wrong in his shock of the situation. Severus poised the question to Potter just to see if that were in fact the case. “A jar?”

“Yeah, she is some type of beetle.” Harry offered nonchalantly.

A flicker of a memory, the jewelled beetle button on the Warden’s robes. How the wings fluttered only as the Portkey carried him off to the Ministry and eventually home to Hermione. 

“A jewelled beetle?” Severus sounded more frantic that he meant.

“Uh, yeah, Hermione showed her to us on the train home, um, after Cedric died.” Harry still did not seem to grasp exactly how important this tidbit of information was.

To Severus, it was both a gold-mine and a potential death sentence. The blasted reporter had been there the whole time, he had no idea how much she’d heard. He did not put it past her for her to hold that information hostage should he come calling for retractions.

“I am going to refrain from telling you how utterly idiotic the three of you were to conceal this from the world because right now, you have provided me with the fodder I need to do what I must.” Glancing at the ceiling for a moment, Severus withheld all the desire he had to shake Potter. “In the future, Potter, when there is a megalomaniac out to kill you and you find out someone is an Animagus unregistered, tell someone.”

“I will keep that in mind. I’m going to go back to work now, I will let you know if I can find out where she is publishing this newsletter from.” The young man said, moving back toward the fireplace.

“You do that,” Severus groused, his index finger pressed to his temple. Before Harry managed to leave, he thought of something important. “Harry, if you spot Hermione at the Ministry, don’t mention this to her unless she mentions it to you.”

That infuriating genetic Potter smirk came into place as Harry stared at him. “In your own words,  _ obviously _ .”

“Get out of my house before I hex you, Potter.” Severus flicked his hand at him. The threat was only half in jest. 

The bemused smile was replaced with a grateful expression. “Thank you for believing me, Severus.”

“You could not possibly have _heard_ when some of these things were said,” Severus explained. The only people who had been there for that exchange were Sanguini, himself, Weasley and the warden. And now, Rita Skeeter as well.

Still not gone, Potter seemed to appraise him. “It’s true?”

“Hmm?” Severus grunted, unsure what was being asked about.

The Auror rose his eyebrow at him. “You want to marry Hermione?”

Unfortunately for Potter, that was the wrong question at the moment. A blaze of anger seized his chest and Severus closed in on the young man, his eyes levelled at him in a warning. “That is hardly any of  _ your _ business, now is it?”

Potter opened his mouth once, thought about it, and let it shut. “I suppose it isn’t.”

“Goodbye Potter,” he managed to strangle the words out without strangling the dark-haired man.

“Goodbye, Severus.” Potter jolted for the fireplace, hastily flooing away.

Alone in his home again, Severus read the newsletter a second time. It drove him exactly as angry as it had the first time, perhaps even a touch more. The audacity of it wasn’t the only thing that infuriated him. There was an undertone in the words painting Hermione as some vicious and conniving witch that tweaked Severus’s nerves.

It pressed on the part of him that had witnessed her broken and beaten being flung from a tower and demanded he jumped after her. He wouldn’t say that he wanted to defend her honour, but there was no other way to put it. The attack on him was expected if not over the top, but he found he could not abide by his witch being dragged through the mud.

Severus wanted to take care so that Hermione never had to read the rubbish. His chest tightened as he thought about how she would react to reading it. If he could, he would find every copy and toss it into the fire.

However, not only was that impossible, but it also went against his promise to her. No more lies, no more hiding things from her to protect her. There was only one thing she’d asked him to obscure until he knew more. If Severus tried to hide this, it would undermine his word to her. 

Pacing angrily, Severus threw the parchment onto his chair. His plans for a pleasant evening with a delighted and surprised Hermione were all but ruined.

The back and forth gliding across the library calmed him enough that he could concentrate. He would deal with Skeeter and when he was done with her, she would never even consider writing down either of their names. Crossing his arms, he moved to one of his bookcases, his eyes drawing over the titles. One stood out to him, and he immediately knew what he was going to do.

Smirking, Severus pulled the thick tome down. 

Oh, Skeeter would soil herself before she ever thought of speaking about either of them again.

Tucking his it under his arm, he moved to the kitchen for tea. He would need to spend some time perusing through the book, but he knew that what he was looking for was in it.

After all, it wasn’t called  _ ‘Rare Entomological Species and their Alchemical Uses’ _ for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone!  
> I wanted to stop in and let everyone know that I have not given up on Peculiar at all.  
> I have a best friend who is currently in hospice with terminal cancer, and so all my spare time is currently going to be with her.  
> Updates will be much slower for the time being, I have chapter 82 about halfway done.  
> I just wanted to let everyone know that this is not an abandoned fic and I am still taking notes, i simply do not have the time to write at this moment.  
> Thanks,  
> Tea  
> aka  
> 


	82. Reckoning and Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Hermione's Point of View. Shout out to CorvusDraconis for giving this a lookover and being the best being ever. Without their support and encouragement, I would not be back this soon. <3
> 
> Hello Hello.  
> I am returning from my Haitus.  
> For those who expressed their sentiment and well wishes for me and my best friend, I want to thank you. She passed in her mothers arms on the 2nd of December. She knew she was loved and we spent her final days making her laugh at old times sake and making promises to each other.  
> I will likely only be updating once a week for a while, as I get back into the groove. But I am back to writing, it is the only that that helps me to not feel her loss so deeply.  
> Thank you for all your love and support. <3

It was a different feeling, advancing from the Floo network into the atrium of the Ministry. The last time she had been there, Hermione had felt as if she were lost and out of place. Now, however, it was as if she belonged again—maybe not to the place itself, but in her own skin. 

Pulling her shoulders back, Hermione fixed her robes with a snap of confidence. She’d worn her gray suit of robes, ones that up until recently were too baggy for her to wear. Hermione had purchased them for special occasions and events with the Ministry so that she would attend and not always be the skirt among suits. When she’d come downstairs that morning, Severus told her that she looked like she was about to take on the world in them. When she thought about it, Hermione felt like she was about to take on the world. 

The sensation of being watched followed her as she moved through the masses to the lift, but she only gave those she noticed a passing smile. Hermione considered that she should have been nervous, but strangely, that was not the case. Rather, she sensed, for the first time in a long time, that these halls no longer held anything she needed to worry about, as if she had nothing here to fear.

Instead of meeting in Barrister Greengrass’s office, they had elected to use one of the judicial conference rooms. Hermione was overjoyed to be so close to having this turbulent chapter of her life over. Once the trial with Ron was complete, she would never have to see him again; she could finally close this chapter on her life. 

The thought spread warmth across her chest just under her breastbone. She was ending a bygone chapter of her life because there was a new one being written. Even with all the divination, madness, and the meddling of supernatural creatures, the present situation of her life was one she wanted to be a part of it. 

Mr. Greengrass made the meeting fly by smoothly, more so than she could have imagined. He had the paperwork in order, the witnesses lined up with their statements, and they had a solid plan of action. Even Severus had submitted a concise telling of the event through his eyes. It was expectedly void of emotion and a matter of fact step by step account as if it were a potion recipe. 

All Hermione needed to do was sign off on some forms and make sure that everything was accurate to her best recollection. It was well-known and documented she did not remember anything past the fall, so that would have to be explained via witness accounts. 

A Ministry-appointed lawyer was representing Ron now, since his previous lawyer had come down with a slight case of true death. Through this and the amount of backlash from her divorce hearing, the defense had provided all their documentation far in advance. Mr. Greengrass had told her it was almost as if they were sorry that they had to be the ones defending against her. Hermione was elated by the fact that there would not be a circus in the courtroom again. A sense of relief on the horizon overtook her for a moment. In two days time, Hermione would face Ron for what she hoped would be the last time. 

Once her own upcoming case details were settled and they were as ready as they would ever be, Hermione prepared to meet with the woman that her barrister was representing on a different divorce case. She’d brought along all the books she had found when she was researching her own case so that she could offer whatever assistance she could. 

She was surprised when she entered the other conference room. Hermione had not expected there would be several witches there to meet with her. It had occurred to her that her divorce would trigger a change in the atmosphere around witch-led divorces. It didn’t occur to her that she would be regarded as the source of information for it. Her actions had set the wheels in motion to allow freedom for those like her. These women were proof of the shockwave that was upsetting the way things had always been done. 

Even though she hadn’t planned for this amount of people, she took it all in stride, turning the meeting into a group discussion. It was almost like teaching a class on how to divorce your husband. Providing the books she’d used and where she got her forms was the easy part. Addressing the fear and uncertainty on the other side of a divorce was not. 

Hermione had the benefit that she had worked and saved money away on top of having a place to stay with her position at Hogwarts. More than half the women present had neither, having been housewives and mothers since they had first been married. Mr. Greengrass said he and his colleagues were looking into a solution for his clients, so they recommended she not fret overly much about it. Hermione, however, already had the wheels turning in her mind that there was something she needed to do to help.

The meeting lasted well into lunchtime, but by the end of it, Hermione was famished but also overflowing with accomplishment. Her goal in life had always been to make the world a better place for those who had no voice—the elves, goblins, and those overlooked and underserved. Now she was doing the same for witches without even intending to do more than help herself. 

The meeting had uplifted Hermione's mood and a smile took up residence on her face as she left the Ministry and took the floo to Diagon. She was going to treat herself to lunch out at the Leaky, then go home and tell Severus how well everything went.

The fact she thought of his house as  _ home _ did not slip past unnoticed. Spinner’s End, with Severus, was now home to her. A flutter of emotions filled her chest, compelling her skip a little as she moved through the crowd.

Diagon Alley was busy, the warm weather and insufficient gloom or hint of rain seemed to bring everyone out. Hermione navigated through the witches and wizards to the Leaky Cauldron. The crowd had found its way there as well, since it was full enough that no tables were available. Undeterred, Hermione sat up at the bar, glancing over the menu. It’d been a while since she’d eaten out in the Wizarding world, so she was trying to decide between scotch eggs or the house stew. 

A male voice caught her attention. “Hermione?”

She turned her head to meet a familiar but not unwelcome sight of red hair and freckles. “George, how are you?”

George Weasley made his way to her, squeezing between chairs and partons of the inn. “Fine, thanks. What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing a bite. I just left a meeting at the Ministry,” Hermione explained.

George extended his hand to the empty seat at her side. “Mind if I?”

She glanced at it and shook her head. “Go on. No one is sitting here.”

He hopped up onto the barstool, holding his hand up to greet Tom. The bartender nodded at him and went back to serving patrons at the other side of the bar. “How have you been?”

“Good, the change of scenery from Hogwarts has been pleasant.” Hermione smiled at him in earnest. “How about you and the shop, business still good?”

The trademark grin that happened whenever he spoke about the shop creased the side of his mouth. “Business is lucrative, as it is expected to be, summer, kids out, many pranks to pull. Where have you been this summer?”

“With Severus.” Her face broke into an uncontrolled grin.

George's face, however, seemed to sink a little, his eyes shifting to a more thoughtful gaze. “Hmm. Has he been _alright_ to you?”

“Yes, of course.” Her tone was defensive without her trying to be. “You have an odd look on your face. What is wrong?” Hermione rose an eyebrow at him, wondering what had caused the shift in him.

She watched his brown eyes flicker around the room before they focused on him again. “How ‘bout after you eat, you come down to the shop. There’s something I wanna show you.”

Concern mellowed out the jovial emotions occupying her all morning. George was acting off, as if something was wrong. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Mhmm. Meet me at the shop when you are done.” George got up from the stool, leaning toward her to give her a one-armed hug.

Returning the hug, she agreed with him. “Okay, I will, but only if you promise to explain what this is about.”

“You got it. Full explanation with details and notations, just the way you like it.” He teased her before wandering off through the crowd.

Hermione ate her lunch, she had finally decided on the stew, thoughtfully considering his reaction. It wasn’t fear on his face, so she didn’t think she was in danger. Not only that, but if she were, George would have been adamant she went with him now. No, it was something of a worry, but there was something else there. 

The seat next to her on either side remained unoccupied and no one else seemed to speak to her; it suited her. She ate faster than she had planned, wanting to know what George wanted to show her. Paying for her meal, Hermione made haste out on to the street and toward the joke shop. 

It was noticeable that many people were looking at her, but no one approached her. Not that she was commonly approached, but it did seem a bit odd. Shaking her head, dismissing the oddity, she made her way down the lane toward Weasley Wizarding Wheezes.

The inside of the colourful building smelt of gunpowder, sugar, and something distinct to only that shop. Hermione remembered when it had first opened it had caused her nose tingle a bit. It wasn’t long after she entered the door that George came down the stairs to greet her.

“I am glad you came. As promised, I will explain everything, please step into my office.” With an exaggerated bow, he reached for her hand. 

Hermione was certainly more concerned as she took his hand, and he led her into the back room. “Your office? It must be _serious_ then.”

Once inside the obnoxiously bright and comfortable office, George sighed, letting her hand go. His entire body language changed to resignation. 

His voice was low as he glanced at her. “Hermione, have you read the rubbish out on you and Snape?”

Forehead furrowing, Hermione shook her head. “What? There wasn’t anything in the Prophet; Severus would have told me when he was reading it this morning. What was written?”

Severus read the paper every morning ritualistically, he would have warned her if something unkeen was in it, especially with her going out today.

He shook his head with a sigh. 

“No, in the newsletter.” George moved around his desk, grabbing a parchment from the top drawer.

Hermione had no idea what he was talking about; she didn’t subscribe to newsletters—primarily because they were more gossip than news. “What newsletter?”

“Rita’s newsletter.” George shook it at her as if it would make more sense if she looked at it.

Her eyes fell on the spidery green ink and her heart sank into her chest, recoiling at this revelation. “Rita Skeeter is writing again?”

“She never stopped.” George’s face contorted as if he’d had an unpleasant bite of food in his mouth. “She took her following and produced a newsletter where she gossips, now _without_ the oversight of the Prophet Editor, not that there was much of that there anyways.”

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm the stirring of both anger and fear in her chest. As fate would have it, it would be on a day when she felt fantastic about herself that Rita would show up like the unwanted pest she was. Exhaling through her nose, she looked at George, her lips curling into a soft frown. “What did she say about me?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “How about you just read it? I can’t even make myself say some of what she said about you.” Placing the parchment into her hands, he gestured for her to take a seat.

_ Dark Mysteries, Secret Meetings, and Vampire Society — What has ex-deatheater Severus Snape and his harlot Hermione Granger dragged the Boy-Who-Lived into? _

_ It is well-known that Severus Snape and Hermione Granger worked tirelessly to bring down one of the oldest pureblood families, the Weasley's, in recent months. Granger has no limits to how low she will stoop, and when paired with the dastardly and surly cunning of Severus Snape, it was only a matter of time before she turned on the nearest man in her sights. _

_ I have it on good authority that Severus Snape, in the accompaniment of a vampire, lured Harry Potter to a secret meeting at Azkaban with a prisoner. That prisoner is the lover of Ron Weasley, who is also detained there. Snape and the vampire arrived before Potter and exchanged some heated words with Weasley before entering the spell sealed interrogation chamber. _

_ It is hard to believe that Weasley poorly treated Granger when she is already ‘the happiest she has ever been’ and that Severus Snape is getting ready to propose to her. I hope the Ministry comes to their senses before that unholy union becomes a reality. _

_ Harry Potter arrived last, looking flustered as if he didn’t want to be there. _

_ Our sources could not tell the readers what the secret meeting had been about, only that when the three men, well two men and one monster left, they were solemn as if some dark magic or ritual had been committed. _

_ It is evident that Granger has gotten her claws deep into Severus Snape, almost the point where it impossible to determine who is more of a threat to the wizarding world. Since the end of the battle, it has been well-documented and known that Severus Snape’s Patronus is a doe in honour of his late love for Lily Potter. However, my source says that a doe did not protect the potions master, but instead a lioness. What does that mean, you wonder? Was his affection for the boy’s mother a ploy, something to get him to speak on his behalf and protect him from the walls of Azkaban? And now, when that no longer works, have he and Granger shown their true colours. _

_ I would not be surprised to find out that there had been something going on long before her marriage to poor Ronald Weasley. It was well documented that Granger sought out men of power in her school years, with her attachment to the likes of Viktor Krum and Harry Potter. _

_ Who isn’t to say that the little harlot didn’t seek out some type of ‘extra credit’ from the Potions Master when it was far from legal. _

_ Regardless, there is much to speculate on this new development. What would those three need from the poor, depressed, brokenhearted mistress of Ron Weasley? And only a week before the trial of his ‘attempted murder’ of Granger. Where Snape nearly bashed the man’s skull in? Did they threaten her, making her give her lover’s secrets? Or was it something even darker? Could they have forced Potter into some vampiric cult, and we must now watch to see if he turns. _

_ For years there was speculation that Snape was a vampire and his recent sightings with one only adding to that narrative. What have we been letting teach our children? _

_ I will be keeping my eyes and ears out, readers, to bring you more on this. Since I am no longer tethered to the restraints of that awful uncreative working environment of the Prophet, I can focus on the critical stories on the ones that matter most to the Wizarding World's safety. _

_ Thank you for subscribing to my newsletter and I hope to have new development for you next week. _

_ -Rita Skeeter _

The title had Hermione’s throat tightened before she could even sit. A roaring rage climbed her ribs, taking host of her breath as she continued to read. It wasn’t uncommon for Rita’s words to incite this type of anger in her, but this was a beast of another colour. 

Rita Skeeter wasn’t merely going after Hermione, she was going after Severus. 

Hermione’s jaw clenched. This newsletter, these lies, were heavy accusations that could cause Severus to lose his job should anyone conceive they had merit. If anyone put a single grain of belief to what Rita had written, Severus’s whole livelihood and way of life could be destroyed. An overwhelming desire to protect Severus mingled with the indignation in her chest. 

Reading it a second time, to be sure she read it correctly, only added more fuel to the burning fire. Standing from the chair, Hermione snarled. “How dare that cow, that _wretch_ , that vile — No, I am not going to let her _ruin_ everything.”

Speaking to herself, she made a full turn, marching out the door. If Skeeter thought Hermione was going to do as she had done in years before and just lie back and take this, she was woefully incorrect. 

She heard George scramble behind her, a sense of frantic concern in his voice. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

She stopped and blinked slowly, trying to curb the desire to yell at George because he had done nothing wrong. Hermione didn’t need to think about what she was going to do; she knew already. “I am going to _bury_ her.” 

With those words, she paced away from him. If George had tried to stop her from leaving, Hermione didn’t notice. She had a destination in mind and a list of ways she could bring the gossiping green tyrant to her knees. Hermione was not going to stop until she was certain that Rita Skeeter would never write another word about her again.

The constant public gaze that had followed her around all day suddenly made sense — the wizarding world had read this rubbish and were trying to decide if they believed it or not, and if they did, what dark and sinister plot she was working at. 

Hermione wanted to shake Skeeter. She wanted to grab her and shake her until some decency and common sense crashed into that drama greedy mind of hers.

Seeing no point in knocking in her fury, Hermione marched into the Daily Prophet’s headquarters. It wasn’t her first time in this office, she knew who she was looking for, having had to deliver information from her department many times before. She charged directly into Barnabas Cuffe’s office, eyes so narrow her pupils were barely visible. “ _Where_ is she printing this from? If it is here, I _swear_ —”

He interrupted her, seemingly prepared for her intrusion. “Miss Granger. We don’t know. She hasn’t been here since I fired her.” The older man held his hand up toward the parchment crushed in her hand.

“Are you _certain_?” she demanded, her grip on the paper causing it to wrinkle and crunch.

“Yes, I am certain,” Cuffe offered, reaching into his desk and pulling out a stack of similarly scribbled-on parchment. “Considering that before she started tearing into you, she wrote some delightfully colourful pieces about _me._ ”

There was no fault she could find in his statement. It would make sense she would go after him when he had fired her. If it wasn’t printed here, then she would need to determine where it was printed. If she blew up at Barnabas more than she had, she would lose any help he could offer her.

Taking in a deep breath to try to relax, Hermione sought to funnel some the anger away, so she could speak constructively. “Any idea where I can find her?”

“Cambridge. She lives around there.” Barnabas offered without hesitation, rubbing his forehead as if he were trying to coax away a headache.

“Thank you.” Hermione nodded, turning to leave before she was unable to remain calm and collected.

“In the future, an appointment is _recommended_ ,” the older man commented. 

Hermione looked at him like he was an idiot. “If you _welcome_ drop-ins from Harry, you will welcome them from _me_. I think this is more important than Quidditch, _don’t you_?”

Mr. Cuffe sat there for a moment, his mouth agape as his eyes seemed to register what she was saying to him. If Harry’s status as the Hero of the Wizarding World afforded him the luxury of being able to immediately offer insight to the paper, then she was going to be treated the same.

The air was pregnant with his hesitation before he agreed with her. “Point granted. Good luck finding her, Miss Granger.”

Hermione accepted his luck with a sharp nod before making her way out of the Prophet’s headquarters. 

There was one more place she needed to go before she went home to let Severus know about this.

Merlin, she did not want to ruin what was likely a relaxing day for him with Rita’s nonsense. 

Hermione considered it with lamentation as her feet carried her to her destination on autopilot. The anger she felt would only be a trivial flame to the rage she imagined it would bring up in Severus. To accuse him of such impropriety was a dangerous gambit on Skeeter’s part and Hermione wasn’t sure what Severus would do when he found out.

The Headquarters to Witch Weekly was not a place she needed to storm into or barge past anyone. Her anger had simmered, now a bed of coal waiting to be reignited. Hermione made her way into Romilda’s office, determined to get the woman’s help. If anyone knew journalism and how to fight with it, it was Vane.

“I _know_ , I read it,” Romilda said with disgust before Hermione could even explain the reason for her abrupt visit.

Hermione collapsed into one of the plush chairs, with a frustrated sigh. “Do you know where she is printing it?”

Romilda chewed on the end of a sugar quill, her face softening with thoughtfulness. “Independently, I expect out of her house, like the Lovegoods do the Quibbler.”

It was not the news she was hoping for, but it was what she considered a possibility.

“I was hoping that _wasn’t_ the case.” Hermione rubbed her forehead, a dull throb of a headache starting as her blood pressure waned.

Rita Skeeter could be publishing her newsletter from anywhere — even a Muggle publishing house if she managed to bewitch someone. Finding her would be a formidable task, even when she had the general area of Cambridge to look at. 

Romilda’s warm mahogany eyes gave her a sense of commiseration. “So, what can I help you with aside from that?”

Pushing a burst of air from her lungs, Hermione nodded, more to herself than Romilda. She knew what needed to be done. If Rita was going to hide from her, she was going to flush her out. Hermione hadn’t been lying when she said she was going to bury her, and she knew precisely how to do it.

“I want you to bury her. I want you to be the one who _exposes_ her for what she is.” Hermione offered, leaning forward on her knees and clasping her hands.

“I’m going to need _something_ to bury her with,” Romilda explained, pulling out her writing quill.

Taking in a deep breath, Hermione collected her thoughts before speaking. “You can start with the fact that Maria is her niece. The woman in Azkaban, who helped my ex-husband try to kill me, is _her niece_. Rita knows this and neglects to say it in her newsletter.”

Romilda shook her head, tsking as she took notes. “Not _enough_ to go after someone Hermione, you know that.”

It was splendid then that this was not all that Hermione had on the woman. “I’m not done. Maria is a servant— _was_ a servant of the vampire Darcy Harkness and was given to him as a child. Rita’s family knows this. So does Rita.”

Romilda’s eyes widened a touch, and she leaned forward on her desk, though still hovering over the wet ink of her notes. “Okay, now that has some promise.”

Hermione nodded and offered the ace in her pocket, a secret she had carried for over a decade. If Rita was going after Severus’s way of life, Hermione was going to go for hers.

“And, Rita is an illegal Animagus. Unregistered.” Hermione conveyed in a whisper.

It was a secret that she had kept for too long. Either Rita thought she had forgotten about it, or that for some reason she was never going to tell anyone about it. Unfortunately for Rita, Hermione had never forgotten and had only never reported her out of a kindness now she no longer offered to the woman. 

“You are kidding?” Romilda looked like someone had just offered her a priceless antique for free.

“I am not.” Hermione felt like it was high time Rita’s dirty laundry was across the news, since she attempted to air everyone else. “She is a beetle. And I will bring you **proof**.”

Romilda was rapidly jotting down notes, nodding. “Now that is a story with some meat to it. If you can get me proof, we can make her life hell.” 

“I will send you _all_ my notes and the photos I have of her,” Hermione agreed. “I have more proof than you will know what to do with.”

Hermione had been through in collecting the blackmail meant to establish it so that Rita never wrote garbage about her, Harry or Ron again. She had both her written account and memories of it, on top of muggle and magical photographs. She documented her markings and forced Rita sign a confession that she was indeed an Animagus and was knowingly unregistered. It was the only way that Hermione was going to let her go at the end of that summer.

Rita apparently expected that blackmail to have had an expiration date, but Hermione had never given her any indication to that being the case.

Visiting with Romilda for a little while eased her nerves. It was nice to have a female friend she could chat with that wasn’t only Ginny. In a completely off the record conversation, they had talked about how their summer had been so far. 

Romilda had gone to Greece for a week and wanted to go back because she believed the men there were more endearing. She’d spent most of the rest of her summer pining for the Mediterranean. 

Hermione spent most of her time gushing about how comfortable and peaceful it was being with Severus. She left out anything that she thought would make Severus uncomfortable because she had gained a similar sense of privacy from being with him. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t talk about how he was an excellent cook and that he had a little garden. Or about how they would read together quietly. It took some convincing for Romilda to believe it was the same Severus that had scared them all in potions this laid back.

It was drawn into the afternoon by the time she considered getting up to leave.

Romilda stopped her from leaving with a hand on her arm. “Before you go, would you be willing to give me a statement to refute what she has said? I can put it out with the next issue.”

Pausing, Hermione considered it with a tilt of her head. Letting it sit with nothing said could only let the notion that she and Severus were up to something dubious. There was no reason to not say something. “That’s not a bad idea. I’m not sure what all I should say though.”

Romilda went back to her desk, pulling out her quill and notepad. “Say what feels right in response to Rita’s words.”

There were significant feelings in response to Rita’s words that were in Hermione and not all of them were public media appropriate. She got up from her seat and paced a moment, going over what she thought would be the best way to manage the situation.

Twisting her lips, Hermione turned to Romilda, nodding. 

“I’ve got it. So, on the record now. Severus and I _are_ romantically involved, but it is only a **recent** development. There was **never** anything untoward, improper, or scandalous when I was a child between us. Ask any classmate, he hated me. Hell, as anyone who was even near the school, he loathed me.” Hermione frowned, she didn’t like reflecting back to when he was solely a daunting teacher that she craved approval from. 

Shaking her head, she continued. “He wasn’t even in my adult life until I returned to Hogwarts after leaving my husband _this_ fall. Rita Skeeter is looking for something to keep her relevant since her fall from being the media darling. She sees me and Severus as easy targets because we have recused together for the summer to enjoy some peace and quiet that is well deserved. But because we aren’t present does not mean we aren’t _paying attention_ to the Wizarding World.”

Hermione stopped and Romilda nodded, standing. 

It wasn’t enough. She knew she needed to say more. Holding up her hand, she continued. “I ask, and I am sure that Severus would agree, that we are allowed our privacy as neither of us desires to have as public a relationship as I had previously with my ex-husband. It is not _too_ much to ask to be left alone for a little while.”

It was quiet as Romilda scribed the last words down, a smile at the corners of her lips. “Brilliant. I will write up a whole article about it, and you better get me all that evidence.”

Turning toward the brunette, Hermione enveloped her in a big hug. “Romilda, I owe you big time.”

“You do, but I _expect_ an invitation to the wedding.” Romilda squeezed and chuckled at her.

Drawing back and shaking a finger at her, Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t you start, too.”

“I only tease.” Romilda wiggled her eyebrow with a smirk. “Now, don’t you have somewhere to be? Isn’t there some tall, dark man you should be relaxing with for your summer?”

“You forgot _handsome_ ,” Hermione quipped, moving toward the door.

Romilda chortled at her desk, gripping it so that she did not tetter over. “Hermione, the day I call Severus Snape handsome, is the day you know that I have been replaced by someone who is under polyjuice. He’s _not_ my cup of tea, but it’s okay that he is yours.”

The playful banter made her chuckle. “I suppose if _everyone_ thought he was handsome I’d have to compete for his affection.”

“Not after the way I saw him looking at you when you were here before.” The witch’s voice was serious, even with the spark of laugher in her eyes.

Hermione sighed, fixing her robes. “You are a _hopeless_ romantic.”

As if on cue, Romilda brought her hand to her forehead as if she was going to swoon, but her words were mocking. “I work for Witch Weekly, Darling; that is in my job description: solid news and _hopeless romanticism_.”

“I’m leaving now,” Hermione interjected with humour at the woman’s antics.

Her hand was on the door when she was stopped again.

“Hey, before you go.” 

She turned to look at the reporter who was sitting at her desk. “What?”

“There is something different about you. Something about your eyes? What is up with that?” Romilda asked, her head tilted curiously as she stared at her intently.

“Oh.” Hermione paused and then shrugged as if it were nothing important. “ _No comment_.”

She did not want to explain to Romilda, or anyone, that she and Severus were soulmates. It was for them alone, the rest of the world didn’t need to know about it unless it was unavoidable.

“ _Hermione_ ,” Romilda probed, seeking more information.

Shaking her head, she smiled. “ **Bye** , Romilda.”

Sensing that she was being stonewalled, Romilda sighed and waved her off. “I’ll personally send you anything if I hear about Rita.”

“Thanks. Look for my post, I will have it this evening or in the morning at the latest.” Hermione promised, walking out of the office.

The descent to the street pulled the mirth from her, shadowing her with the dread of telling Severus when she got home. She imagined that he had spent a whole day doing something relaxing or working in the lab and now she would be bringing home bad news. She didn’t want to do it, but if she expected no secrets from him, it had to be the same from her.

Getting to a floo, Hermione threw in the powder, calmly saying the address.

Landing into the library, Severus was in his chair, reading an ancient tome, a parchment on his lap as he appeared to be taking notes on something. Everything about him exuded calmed and relaxed.

Her chest tightened as she considered how this would ruin his day. Hermione didn’t even know what to say to him, how to broach the topic. Instead, she was quiet, watching as he was put it all to the side, getting up to greet her.

“How was the meeting?” Severus asked her, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly as if he could read the discomfort on her face. 

Who was Hermione kidding? He could definitely read it on her face. She swallowed hard and shook her head, her eyes flicking to the floor for a moment. It was now or never, if she went into rambling about the meeting, she would avoid telling him about the newsletter.

The words tumbled from her lips. “Severus, something _horrible_ has happened, but I don’t want you to get too upset about it, I am already on the path to taking care of it.”

She watched his face shift, concern tucking in around his gold-rimmed onyx eyes.

“What _happened_?” He placed his hands tentatively on her shoulders, black eyes casting over her as if he were seeking a physical ailment. Before she could even reply to him, his eyebrows furrowed with curiosity. “What do you mean you are taking care of the _trash_ that Skeeter wrote?”

Her jaw fell agape as she gazed at him, confused. It took Hermione several seconds to regain her composure. 

_ Had he known the whole time?... _

_ Had he neglected to tell her this morning?... _

Words returned to her, and she placed a hand on the outside of his arm. “You know about it?”

Severus nodded his head, a disdain curling along the edge of his lips. “Potter came screaming into the house with it shortly after you left. It seems she has placed a target on both of us once again.”

The way he spoke was more resigned than she had expected, and she tilted her head at him, crinkling her forehead. “And you _aren’t_ mad?”

“I’m _**furious**_ —” He hissed through nearly clenched teeth. “—but I want to know how you are taking care of this.”

Her other hand came up to grasp his arm so that both were resting in the crook of his arm where his elbow bent.

“I am going to bury her in her own villainous press.” Her confidence in her plan showed with each word. “I have some blackmail on Skeeter that I haven't used yet, and it’s time her dirty laundry was aired.”

He took a step away from her, turning so his face became masked by a curtain of hair as he pinched his nose. He sighed deeply and shook his head before he looked back at her. “You went to Ms. Vane?”

It wasn’t the reaction that she was expecting. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting exactly, but obvious exasperation was not it. “Yes.”

“You told her that Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus?” Severus queried, once again revealing that he knew something she didn’t imagine he had known.

“How did you—?”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Hermione, you should _know_ by now that Harry cannot keep any manner of a secret. Did you tell Vane about her being an unregistered Animagus, _yes or no_?”

His tone made her take a step back, as a hint of anger pushed through under his words. “Yes, I did, once I get her the proof, she is going to publish it.”

Severus jerked his head disagreeably at her as his voice raised. “ **No, she is not**. You are going to go back to Ms. Vane now and tell her not to publish a **single** word, tell her to forget you said anything at all.”

She clasped her hands in front of her chest on reflex and rose her eyebrow at him. “What?”

His long fingers came up and pinched his nose as his eyes closed. Severus inhaled deeply and then let out an equally long breath. 

She watched him with a touch of confusion.

_ Why would he be upset about Rita Skeeter being exposed? _

_ What was she missing? _

When he did look at her, his expression was calmer and the tint of anger in his voice gone as he spoke. “Hermione,  _ please _ use that brilliant mind of yours. When you found out that she was an Animagus, you were a child, _correct_?”

“Yes.” She agreed. 

It had been in her fourth year, the year that Cedric died, that she’d discovered the reporter's well-kept secret. Hermione remembered when she caught her and her absolute disbelief that she had been right and that the woman had stooped so low to get a new story.

“And as a child, you are weren't held to the same laws on reporting crimes, _correct_?” Severus interrupted her trip down memory lane.

Crossing her arms, Hermione tilted her head at him. “Yes.”

He turned to her, fingers pinched out in front of him as he spoke. “You are now an adult, who has known someone was an illegal unregistered Animagus for _over a decade_ , held an important office in the _ministry_ , and never once reported it. How does that look to the wizarding world, especially when your ex-husband was _removed_ for gambling and tampering with games under _his_ department.”

His words hit her like a knight bus. She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide as the gravity of the situation hit her. If the world knew that she knew, she’d be liable for all the damage Rita caused over the years. Hermione gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. “Oh _Circe,_ I didn’t realize—”

“You did not consider the consequences and now you need to do some damage control before we _do_ spend our whole summer in the courts.” Severus sounded as if he would have rather taught first-year potions again than do that.

Obviously, he was right, she was going to have to stop Romilda from printing up anything. But that meant that Skeeter won and Hermione had nothing on her that could get the woman to leave them alone. That wasn’t acceptable. 

Surely there was something they could do that wouldn’t put them in Azkaban or her reputation in more tatters than it had been last summer. “But, what about Rita, we can’t simply _let_ her get away with this.”

Severus scanned back at his chair where a book lay open. “I will deal with Ms. Skeeter, with your assistance, _of course_.” 

“What do you have planned?” Hermione wanted to know.

Severus pursed his lips and turned back to her. “We can hardly worry about  _ that _ when I have to worry about the Aurors showing up to whisk you away for your ill-considered implication of yourself in a _crime_. I will tell you everything, but first, stop Ms. Vane from publishing whatever it is you told her before even more is ruined.”

“Are you angry with _me_?” She asked quietly, almost dreading the inevitable yes he was going to give her. 

Another deep breath from Severus made her frown, and she turned to the fireplace to contact Romilda, hopefully, she hadn’t gone home for the evening.

His hand landed gently on her shoulder, and she glanced up at Severus. It was hard to tell what he was thinking by the look on his face. His voice was quiet, nearly a whisper.

“I am not angry with you, _only the situation_ , I am doing my best to not take this out on you.” He paused as he stepped in front of her and leaned his forehead against hers. “Please, consider the ramifications of your actions in the future. You are intelligent, but sometimes you think _too_ much like a Gryffindor.”

Her face scrunched up at his statement. “I _am_ a Gryffindor.”

“Please do _not_ remind me.” He sighed, and she could not tell if he was serious or not.

“That isn’t _funny_ Severus.” Hermione huffed.

He stood up and nodded. “Floo-call Ms Vane, and then I will let you know what I have planned for Ms Skeeter.” With that he returned to his chair, pulling the books and notes into his arms.

Hermione agreed with the fact that she needed to stop Romilda, but how was she going to get her to not publish something like this. If she said she was mistaken, Romilda might think she was under duress at best and at worst think she was crazy.

“She is going to think I have gone mad.” Hermione offered aloud as she leaned against the fireplace.

Severus turned toward the kitchen, his arms laden with his work. “Tell her you were mistaken.”

She laughed at the notion. “She will _know_ it is a lie.”

Severus turned over his shoulder at her. “But will it be enough to convince her it is important that your knowledge _never_ sees the light of day?”

He had a valid point.

Romilda had been on her side from day one and would likely understand there would be a good reason for this to be buried. She hoped it wouldn’t put a strain on her relationship with the woman. “Maybe.”

“Do what you must. I have no desire to see the Ministry come for you over this” He told her, turning into the kitchen.

Hermione heard him put the books on the dining room table, and she assumed he was giving her some privacy. Steeling her courage, Hermione leaned down and called out to Romilda Vane’s office at Witch Weekly.

— — — — — — — — — —

Hermione stepped into the kitchen after one of the weirdest conversations she may have had in her entire life. Somehow everything had gone as it needed to without much argument, and she wasn’t sure how. Romilda was normally much more inquisitive and rarely let things slide. The fact that she was more than willing to wash her hands of the story and pretend she had never heard anything about it was uncharacteristic of her. 

Hermione almost wondered if Severus had somehow gotten to her first, but that was impossible, as she could hear him in the kitchen making tea while they were talking.

“Well?” Severus studied her over the rim of his teacup with raised eyebrows, one hand leaning back on the counter.

“She believed me, I guess.” Hermione was still terribly confused. “Romilda either is an excellent actor and knows I am trying to cover my ass, or she is incapable of sensing lies.”

“Ms Vane is an excellent judge of situations. She likely knew you realized your error.” Severus commented over his tea before taking a sip.

Hermione sighed and slumped down into her seat at the table.“I thought I was doing what was _best_ to protect you.”

He coughed on his tea and retorted with exasperation, “And in protecting me, you almost sent yourself into a precarious position where you lose all credibility _at best_ and at worst sit in a cell _next_ to your ex-husband.”

Putting her face into her hands, she leaned her elbows on the table. “I know, I know. Are you mad _now_?”

“ _Frustrated_.” He huffed and she heard his footsteps on the floor coming toward the table.

Hermione hadn’t meant to cause more problems, but it appeared it was unavoidable. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be.” Severus sat down across from her. “I should have come and found you as soon as Potter left, I had hoped you would not have found out until you were home and I could tell you.”

“Best laid plans.” She glanced up at him, resting her hands on the table.

He made a face. “Yes, I know, but it was a _terrible_ book.”

“It really was.” She chuckled, amused at the fact that he knew the Muggle novel she was referencing. “What is the plan?”

Severus straightened up, his demeanour now serious and his face stoic. “We let her believe she hasn’t affected us and that we have _something_ secretive in the works. It will flush her out. Once she has revealed herself, we will go from there.”

“And how do you suggest we do this?” Hermione asked him, her eyes stealing a glance at the diagram of a dissected beetle on the page of the book he was working on. 

_ Surely Severus wasn’t going to dissect Rita Skeeter... _

He distracted her with a nefarious grin. “You and I will be going out to dinner with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy _tomorrow_ night.”

Hermione pinched her lips, her mouth moving once as she struggled to find the words. This plan of action made no sense to her. The Malfoys had no love for Skeeter and would not be a way to contact her. “I’m confused. How does that help?”

“It will be like a flame to a moth. She is searching for fuel, offering it to her on a silver platter will have her show up, in one form or _another_.” The way he said it made her acutely aware of the fact that he was betting she would come as an Animagus.

There were still gaps in the plan she didn’t understand. “How will she know we will be there?”

“Lucius is already making sure that this happens,” Severus said, sliding his book across the table to be in front of him.

So the senior Malfoy was going to be flashy and accidentally reveal they were working on something important together which would draw attention. Hermione hoped it would the attention they wanted and not a mob who believed the rubbish. She bit her lip as she watched him start to notate a duplicate diagram with his spiky script. “I have a feeling this is going to be a Slytherin form of revenge.”

“I know no other way to exact it.” Severus offered, not looking up at her.

Hermione reached her hand out and stilled his quill. 

He looked up at her with concern in his eyes.

Scanning from him to the diagram and then back, Hermione asked so quietly that the words hardly were audible. “Are you going to _hurt_ her?”

“No more than she has hurt _you_.” Severus breathed out, his other hand coming to cup over hers. “I will ask you, however, do not let her _think_ otherwise. Much of this plan rests heavily on what she thinks I am _capable_ of, not what I actually intend to do.”

Hermione nodded, it eased the fear that he’d end up committing murder. “What are you going to do about what she said? About us having been involved when I was a student. It’s a lie, we both know that and you know I have never indicated anything of the like.”

Shaking his head, Severus shushed her. “I have already sent a letter to Minerva, who sent one back telling me that Skeeter can take her rubbish and _shove it_ where the sun does not rise. If the board takes umbrage with me over such falsehoods, she will take them to task. Unlike Albus, Minerva does _not_ cow to them.”

“That’s _it_?” Hermione asked.

He confirmed it by repeating her. “That’s it.”

The way he said it really offered no room for questions. Minerva had said he was fine and that she knew that truth and that was all that they apparently needed. One less worry on her shoulders. But that still meant that somehow they were going to get Rita in public and then convince her to stop writing about them and retract her lies. Hermione wasn’t sure how they were getting from point A to point B and two plus two was equaling fish to her.

“I’m still confused about this plan,” she admitted.

“I expected as much,” Severus said, letting her hand go. “I will explain it more in detail over dinner. I ordered in while you were with Vane, no sense in you trying to cook when you’ve had a no-doubt _exciting_ day.”

She had completely forgotten about dinner in the chaos of the day. It was normally her meal to cook since he would rise before her to cook breakfast. The fact that he considered she would be in no state to cook and take care of it, made her smile. “I love you, I had no idea what I was going to cook for dinner, I had honestly forgotten about dinner.”

“I love you too,” Severus smiled softly. He withdrew his hand from her grasp and returned to the diagram. “Now unless you are more comfortable in those clothes, go get comfortable, dinner should be here soon.”

It was then that she realized she hadn’t even changed yet. 

“I think a hot shower would do me some good. I’ll be back.” Hermione said, rising from her chair and heading toward the stairs.

Severus answered her distractedly. “I’ll be here.”

Ascending the stairs, Hermione turned toward the bedroom and noticed a box that had not been there when she’d left this morning. It looked worn as if it had encountered a bit of time in an attic or the like. Hermione wondered if Severus had pulled it down from his office for some reason. Leaning down the read the handwriting on the side, Hermione placed her hand over her mouth. It was his memory box, that meant the scrawling script along the side of it had to be his mother's handwriting and not his. 

Hermione fought the urge to open the box, her curiosity strongly encouraging her to do so. Shaking her head, Hermione decided that Severus had likely brought it down for a reason and that she would have to wait for that reason. The last thing she wanted to do was damage something that important to him. 

She did, however, make a note to ask him about it on her way into the shower. Maybe there was something of his past that he wanted to share with her. Severus was already welcoming with her, but they had only spoken briefly of his childhood and most of it was the negative issues. Maybe there were details of his mother in there that he wanted to show her. 

The thought made her smile as she let the scalding water wash away the stress of the day. Hermione was well aware the next few days were going to be busy, even more so now that Skeeter had drawn herself back into the picture just two days before the trial against Ron. Rubbing her forehead, she steeled herself for the whirlwind, hoping that whatever Severus had planned was better than the ill-fated plan she had devised. Part of her was eager to hear it, and another part wanted the world to fade away and just let her and Severus relax a little longer.

Her shower done and her body and mind relaxed from the steaming water, Hermione went to their room to get dressed. She purposely pulled on one of Severus’s shirts and her own shorts. It was comfort to her, and she knew it amused him. Pulling her hair up, she looked herself over in the mirror. Instead of the utter revilement she used to suffer even thinking of looking into a mirror, it was only a minor discomfort. A quick nod of approval was all she did give herself in acknowledgement of the growth before she stepped away to join Severus downstairs and learn of his plan for flushing the media flea out.


	83. Dinner and Dissection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Severus's perspective.
> 
> Shout out to the astonishing CorvusDraconis for corralling my rogue punctuation and peck me into getting this chapter done and to the wonderful Mersheeple who helped me make sure the proper mood was explored in the second section of the chapter.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your comments and support.

He closed his eyes in the doorway between the kitchen and the library, mentally checking that everything was in place to execute his plan properly. If it wasn’t perfect, it had a higher chance of failing. Failure was _not_ an option for him. It would have been one thing had it been just him that the libel-spewing witch had gone after. Before now, he had no reason to defend himself in such a manner. But now, Severus had something worth defending.

Severus had spent the better part of the morning preparing his lab, so he knew everything was in place. Procuring the specimens had only taken an owl request, and the delivery had arrived before noon. He would have to make sure that he thanked his apothecary for their promptness when he next visited in person. 

Hermione had not completely agreed with his plan of action, but she also could not provide a better solution. Skeeter had already been reprimanded in every other manner and it had not seemed to phase her. If they were going to exact from her the peace they both had earned, then drastic measures were called for. 

His hand travelled up the front of his frock coat, over the breast pocket where he could detect the glass. A spell jar, one often used to contain specimens with teleportation or apparition abilities, had been modified with charms from Hermione to ensure it was inescapable and still able to contain a living breathing being. Severus was unsurprisingly impressed with her spell work. 

A smile curved at the corner of his lip as the brilliant witch in question came into view.

“Do I look alright?” Hermione asked him, holding her arms out to her side to show off her outfit.

Severus took her in, the smile broadening. Brown curls had been gathered and pulled over one shoulder. A navy dress fell down to just below her knees. It was obvious that she’d put on makeup, but it highlighted her natural beauty, rather than masking it. “You look lovely.” 

Her lips curved slightly as she glanced down at herself. “I was going to wear a longer dress, but it is warm out and you said we were eating outside. Do you think I should wear the longer one?” 

The nerves were apparent in her voice, and he tilted his head at her. “I said you look lovely. I don’t think you should change a thing.”

“You’re sure?” The ghost of a smile was gone as her eyes met his.

Raising an eyebrow at her, Severus crossed his arms. “Do I idly give compliments?”

Hermione sighed and moved into the living room, her arms closing around herself. Her eyes darted away from him to the floor. “No, I’m just nervous.”

Severus understood now. 

Like him, she was concerned about the plan falling through. He’d not been as focused on his appearance as he was making sure everything was in place, but it seemed she was concerned with the former. Uncrossing his arms, he reached his hand out to her to comfort her. “It will go well, merely imagine we are having a pleasant dinner with the Malfoys.”

“That is what I am nervous about.” She cupped her hand over her forehead and pulled it back through her hair. 

_ Hermione was nervous about the dinner aspect of this?... _

Severus didn’t understand as he thought he had. “Why?”

She gazed at him as if he had asked her an inane question and a groan left her lips. “What if I don’t look _good enough_ , I don’t want to look frumpy or out of place.”

Hermione was upset, he could see it in the lines of her face and how she seemed to not stand in one spot for a moment as she spoke. It didn’t make sense to him why she was upset or concerned about how she looked. Surely she understood that he meant it when he said she was lovely. 

_ Should he have used a different word?... _

_ Had lovely some connotation that he was unaware of?... _

Severus wasn’t sure, but he was going to understand what had her riled up before they left for the restaurant. 

He stepped in front of her, placing a hand gently on her arm. “Hermione, you do not look frumpy at all. Why are you concerned about this? Why are you upset?”

Her hand curled around his, and she stilled, glancing up at him again. Severus could see that there was worry in those dark honey eyes. He barely understood the source of it. 

Hermione took in a deep breath and looked away again, focusing on one of the bookcases. “This is the first time I am going out in public for a date in _years_. Even if it is to even the score with Rita, I want it to go well. I don’t want to _embarrass_ you.”

“Embarrass me?” The words fell out before he took the time to process them. 

_ How does she think she is going to embarrass me at dinner by the way she looks?... _

Her face twisted into a frown, and she nodded her head. “Yes, I want you to want to go out in public with me again and, I don’t know, not be _disgusted_ by me.”

Hermione's fingers curled tightly around his, and he let her arm go to hold her hand. 

_ Had he said something or given her an impression that he felt that way at all?... _

Severus ruminated on the whole day and how he had approached the conversation around the plan. There was nothing he did or said to make her feel that she was disgusting in his memory.

“Hermione, where is that coming from? Have I _ever_ acted disgusted with you?” Severus brought his hand up to her cheek, watching at her with concern.

“No, _you_ haven’t. It’s just—” She turned her face away from him. It almost sounded to him like she was about to cry. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it, let’s just go.” Hermione turned to step away from him.

It became clear to him then it was not about something he had done. This was another wound from her past, a dagger in her chest that Weasley had driven there. 

“ _Wait_.” Severus halted her, still holding on to her hand. “Hermione, look at me.”

Her brown eyes met his, and he could see that she was worrying her lips between her teeth before she spoke.“Yes, Severus?”

Looking down to her, he offered her the openness of his mind as he spoke. He was going to convince her that what that fool thought had no merit in how he felt about her. “You are beautiful. I am not only _not_ disgusted, I am honoured you are willing to go out in public with _me_. I highly doubt that you could embarrass me unless you _tried_.”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head as if he had struck another nerve. “I won’t try, I never tried to be embarrassing.”

“That is not what I meant.” Severus sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “I know this is unlikely something you would like to get into precisely before we go out, but I have to ask you a question and all you have to tell me is yes or no. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Her eyes fell closed.

Severus rolled the words around in his mind for a moment, making sure that he said exactly what he meant to say. “Did your ex-husband make you feel like he was disgusted to go out in public with you and tell you that you always embarrassed him?”

The surrounding air grew heavy with things unsaid from her. 

Her hands both closed around his hand that she’d been holding. “I—yes.”

“He was a _fool_ ,” Severus growled.

Even with how far she had come, with how much stronger and confident she had become, there was still wreckage from that menace in her life. It was as if he had insured everything she could draw joy from was perverted to make her feel inferior. 

Her voice was quiet as she spoke.“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ruin things bec—”

Severus moved his hand from her cheek to place a finger on her lips, silencing the self-depreciation. “Stop. You’ve ruined _nothing_. Can we talk about this after everything has been settled with Skeeter? Or would you like to talk about it right now?”

“No, I want to go out, I do. I want to feel good about it and myself for once,” Hermione gasped out.

That was where he was going to focus his efforts on everything else that was planned. “Tell me what I need to do to make sure that is the case?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione shrugged. “Don’t make me feel like you don’t want me there.”

“I can do that Hermione.” Severus agreed, tilting so that he could place a soft kiss on her lips. It would be easy for him to focus the whole evening on how much he wanted her at his side if only to chase away the ghost of what her ex-husband had said and done to her. "If I tell you I want you there, does that help?”

Hermione nodded, and she let his hand go to wrap her arms around him. “Yes. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said _anything_. This isn’t even an actual date, it’s a plan, I need to focus on the plan.”

“Hermione, stop.” Severus sighed, drawing her into his arms. “Yes, it is a plan, and it is _also_ a date. I am still going to wine and dine you and tell you how lovely you are — _within reason_ , of course, I do have some shreds of reputation you’ve not tossed to the wind.”

“Oh, only a few shreds.” She asked, and he could hear some humour in her voice.

Leaning his face into her hair, he nodded. “You are trying hard to dislodge those, I know.”

“No, what would you do without your _reputation_?” Hermione teased him.

Severus felt the tension leaving her as her hold on him loosened and her voice sounded lighter. “Find _other_ ways to convince students it is not wise to cross me.”

“I dread to think of what other ways you would find.” 

Severus leaned back from her, holding her shoulders now. “Perhaps, I will use _you_ as a threat. Warn them that if they upset me, I will have you come and lecture instead of me.”

“I don’t think that would work the way you think it will.” Hermione chuckled, a curl of a smile at the edges of her lips.

A smirk settled on his face. "True, but my plan worked out as you smile again."

“You _sneaky_ Slytherin.” She laughed out, one hand coming to cover her lips.

“Yes, I am. Now are you ready to leave, we are closer to being late than I would like. "Severus stood up and glanced at the mantelpiece clock. He had told Lucius that they would be there at a quarter to six, and they were but five minutes from that time.

“No.” Hermione pouted, drawing his attention back.

Glancing over her, he arched an eyebrow. “ _No_? What else do we need?”

“This.” Her hands cupped her cheeks, and she lifted to him.

Severus saw it coming, and before their lips met, he brought his hands to the small of her back, pulling her to him. Their lips joined in an affirming tender kiss. It was brief, _too brief_ in his opinion, but he could have kissed her every moment of his life and it would be too brief.

Breaking away, he smiled at her. “Ah, yes, how could I forget _that_?”

“Now we can go.” Hermione chimed in cheerfully, seemingly having subdued the anxiety. 

Severus released his hold on her and took her hand, leading her toward the fireplace. There were now two plans he had to juggle, the original purpose of this dinner and now, ensuring that Hermione had an evening where she felt cherished by him.

* * *

Arriving out of the floo, Severus stabilized her with one hand, pulling her close to him as he tucked her arm around his. The High Garden was Narcissa’s favorite restaurant and Severus understood why immediately. Cream columns of Roman marble held up dark wood trellises that provided the ceiling of the rooftop establishment. Flowers and vines draped from the wood, many of which Severus could identify readily. It had an atmosphere of elegance and indulgence. Of course, it would be where they had decided upon for dinner. 

A tall wizard greeted them, obviously the maître d'hôtel, with a soft bow of his head. 

“Do you have a reservat— _Oh_ , Mr Snape, Miss Granger. Please, this way, Mr and Mrs Malfoy are waiting for you.”

Severus nodded, glancing to Hermione to gauge her reaction. He felt out of place only because this was not his element, but considering the conversation they’d had just before they left, he wanted to make sure she did not look uncomfortable. 

Hermione looked at him with a soft smile and her hand tightened around his arm.

Taking it as confirmation, he trailed after the man, stepping so that Hermione did not have to struggle with his longer gait. They were guided behind a drape of vines that did not appear phased by touch and movement. Severus realized that there had to be a preservation spell on them, else they would suffer from the constant jostling.

The pleasant aroma of summer blooms greeted them as they entered into a private dining area. A circular table was dressed in crisp white linen and at it sat the two people they’d agree to meet.

It was obvious that Lucius had no idea how to not have an extravagant outing, as he was dressed in black silk robes with jade trimmings. Severus rolled his eyes as the older man stood up.

“Severus, good to see you. So glad you could make it out to dinner.” The tall blonde extended his hand.

Reaching out, Severus shook his hand. “Hello, Lucius.”

Severus had to admit, this was the perfect place to lure his prey into. The greenery would seemingly provide her with cover, and she would be bolder to listen closer. His dark eyes scanned over the foliage to ascertain if the guest of honour had yet arrived.

In this time, Lucius was bowing his head to Hermione. “And Miss Granger, please, sit, we've just ordered some Elf-wine.”

“Ah, thank you, Mr Malfoy, but I suppose I’ll have something else.” Hermione’s voice gave way that she was the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Lucius is daft, Darling, don’t worry, you won’t be required to drink if you don’t choose to,” Narcissa interjected.

Lucius looked at his wife with a raised eyebrow. She cocked her head at him as if to challenge him to say any different. It was clear there was something being argued between them in unspoken words. After a second, Lucius nodded and turned back to them. “Forgive my oversight, Miss Granger, and please, call me _Lucius_.”

“Then call me Hermione.”

Severus pulled out her chair for her, waiting for her to sit before he did. Her eyes whipped back to him, and a genuine smile crossed her lips as she sat. A warmth crawled across Severus’s chest as he scooted her in towards the table.

Pleased with himself, Lucius clapped his hands together. “Splendid, first name basis for everyone _already_.”

“Lucius, stop _peacocking_ and sit,” Narcissa ordered him, her hand tapping his seat on her left, which was on Severus’s right side.

Severus almost regretted he had invited these two into his plan until he heard Hermione stifling a giggle as the blonde man pouted.

“Cissa, you ruin my fun.”

The waiter came to their table, taking their drink orders. Severus had thought about joining Narcissa and Lucius with some Elf-wine, but he decided against it. Instead, he ordered tea, which was for the best in the end. If he was even slightly influenced by some manner of alcohol, he might miss the appearance of the jewelled beetle he sought. His eyes scanned the area continuously as he kept up with the conversation that Narcissa was leading with ease.

Hermione had seemed tense at first, speaking with the Malfoys, but it seemed it was impossible for her to resist a conversation where her opinion was asked for. Narcissa had wanted to know how she felt about all the changes going on at the Ministry after her divorce. While it would not have been a dinner topic of choice for Severus, Narcissa and Hermione seemed to hit it off as they discussed the disparity in treatment between the sexes.

Lucius was like him, leaning back, watching the room around them and occasionally chiming in where it seemed appropriate. Severus could not tell if it was because he did not want to give his wife reason to consider divorce since they were discussing it, or if he understood he had little to input into the conversation.

A lull fell between the women for a moment and Hermione turned to him. Her face was bright and alive, how it always appeared when she spoke about something she was passionate about, and he could not help but return the smile she gave him. Reaching his hand across the table, Severus placed his over Hermione’s quietly, giving it a soft squeeze.

Meals were ordered and Severus detected Narcissa’s eyes boring into his forehead.

“You obviously have something you wish to say, Narcissa, out with it.” Severus drew out, shifting so that his seat was closer to Hermione’s, so he could hold her hand more comfortably.

The petite woman grinned like a cat who had gotten into the birdhouse. He raised his eyebrow at her, waiting for her to let out what had her so focused on him. Her eyes flicked from him to Hermione as she spoke.

“My Draco says you both are going to be standing with him and his fiance at their wedding, is that true Hermione?”

Severus furrowed his forehead and wondered where Narcissa was going with this.

Hermione looked to him and then back to Narcissa with a confused but polite smile. “Yes, Viktor has been my dearest friend for years.”

Blue eyes that could drive a dagger into a heart with but a glance fixed on Severus’s black eyes. “And you, Severus, are fine with _this_?”

_ Ah, that is her game...  _ Narcissa was trying to fish out if there was any jealousy on his part over how close Hermione and Viktor Krum were.

He leaned forward, eyebrows lifted. “I hardly have any reason to not be fine with it, after all, it is _clear_ Mr Krum is not after my lady, but your son. And, Hermione is entitled to be friends with who she wishes, I cannot dictate that to her any more than she can dictate to me whom I _associate_ with.”

“True,” Lucius hummed, grinning. “I’d love to observe her attempt however, I’ve never seen Severus meet someone he cannot boss about.”

Severus snorted, squeezing Hermione’s hand. “I have no desire to _‘boss her about_ ’ Lucius.”

Narcissa shook her head and leaned forward to Hermione. “Now, about what you will be wearing.”

Lucius rolled his eyes and Severus knew immediately where Narcissa was going to go with this. 

It seemed that Hermione knew as well, as she waved her hand dismissively. “Draco said that I could wear dress robes, so I won’t be the only one in a skirt at the altar.”

“ _Did he now_?” Narcissa hummed, her fingers stepping as if this was a surprise to her.

Severus chuckled. “Yes, he did, and he told us that he had told you as well, Narcissa.”

Narcissa flashed Severus a look as if to say _‘you stay out of this’_ and glanced back to Hermione with a saccharine smile. It was evident that she was going to try to sweet-talk Hermione into doing what she wanted her to do. 

“He had mentioned it, but I thought that you’d reject the idea, after all, it is an occasion to dress up magnificently. It is not daily you get to go to a wedding.”

“I foresee I’ll be more comfortable in dress robes,” Hermione replied, gazing to Severus. It was clear she was asking him if she was crossing some line.

Raising one eyebrow, he tilted his head to her as he squeezed her hand.

Narcissa did not give up on the first rejection, which did not surprise Severus in the slightest.“Are you sure, I could find you a lovely gown that would complement your complexion? You would look radiant, I’m _sure_ Severus would appreciate it too.”

Severus began to interject that Hermione was appreciated regardless of what she wore, but it was Lucius who got to the draw. He placed his hand on his wife’s arm and gave her a pat. “Narcissa, not to spoil your sport, but your son did ask you to not meddle in this.”

Narcissa pouted as their meals arrived, sitting back properly in her chair. “Now, who is ruining whose fun?”

“I am sure there are many _other things_ we can focus on aside from Hermione’s prospective attire for your son’s wedding.” Severus offered. “Any attire she chooses will be appreciated by me.”

“Or we could take a few moments to enjoy the meal.” Lucius agreed with Severus, placing his napkin on his lap.

Severus, recalling all his finest high-class table manners from his days rubbing elbows with the elite, followed suit.

A comfortable silence fell over the table as they began to eat their meal. Still vigilant, Severus observed their surroundings and the attire of every person who came into their private dining area.

His eyes caught Hermione’s a few times and a flush would creep over her cheeks. He didn’t even work on concealing his smirk as they gazed at each other before he would move his eyes back to the task at hand.

It was Hermione who broke the companionable quiet with a question. “Is it true? Did Viktor recite poetry when he asked for Draco’s hand in marriage?”

Lucius wiped his mouth with his napkin, nodding.

Narcissa placed her hand over her heart, her face dipping into a fond expression. “Oh, yes, he did. It brought tears to a mother’s eyes to hear someone so in love with her son. Did Draco deny it?”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. “No, more like he tried to get Viktor to not embarrass him in front of the staff at Hogwarts.”

Lucius cleared his throat. “Ah yes, Hogwarts. A fine topic. Are you both going back, is the 'old sourpuss' going to let you have joint rooms, or will you have to be separate for propriety's sake?”

“I doubt Minerva would like to be called _‘old sourpuss’_ , Lucius.” Severus corrected, knowing that this was a topic that his friend would bring up at some point in time. Lucius and Narcissa were peas from the same pod, inquisitive about other people's lives and unduly cheerful about it.

“What she doesn’t know won’t put a crook in her tail,” he retorted. “Is she giving you joint rooms?”

Shaking his head at his insistence on the topic, he took a drink of his tea before answering him. “We have not discussed it with her yet, she is still enjoying her holiday in the highlands.”

“Ah, I suppose everyone needs a break from the school, eventually.” Crossing his arms, Lucius seemed to Severus, at least, satisfied with the answer.

It was a clear way to tell him that he himself did not know what their fate for housing at Hogwarts would be and it would not be resolved until Minerva was ready to resolve it.

“Tell me, Hermione, how have you liked spending your holiday with Severus?” Narcissa reached her hand out and touched Hermione’s hand. 

There was a certain level of pride Severus experienced when he noticed she did not flinch. He was interested in how she would decide to answer the question. Hermione was not used to playing the information game with the Malfoys, so he wondered if they would end up knowing more than he had planned they would.

“Well, it has been— _wonderful_.” Hermione turned to look at him and Severus smiled at her softly.

Narcissa blinked rapidly, shaking her head as she also eyed him. “Just wonderful? Severus have you not been treating her well?”

Severus tilted his head, not looking at Narcissa as he spoke, his focus still on Hermione. “I doubt this is the case, she has yet to brook any complaints.”

“Wonderful is a compliment.” Hermione breathed out, their gaze locked on each other. “I cannot think of any place I would rather spend my summer. Severus is an excellent host,-and have you visited his library. I will not read it all before we go back to Hogwarts.”

“I swear you two are meant for each other. I ask about your holiday and you talk more about the books than your partner.” Narcissa huffed with bemusement, leaning back in her chair.

It was Hermione who looked away first and Severus experienced the absence rather strangely. Something had happened in that glance, some sort of profession from her, or both of them that had some meaning. It would be something that he would have to ask her about later when there were no other matters at hand. The warm glow of the lighting provided by the fairy lights woven into the trellis painted Hermione’s skin, and he found once again he was enamoured with how beautiful she was. Brown curls looked like woven bronze and the profile of her face looked as if it were a study in perfection. Once again he wished he was a painter so that he could capture this moment forever. Maybe even to show her the beauty that he witnessed in her all the time.

“Severus and I are secretive about our personal life, my self much more _now_ than before. What, with all the bad press and the trial the day after tomorrow, we don’t need any more _complications_. Never can be sure who else is listening and waiting to twist our words. Right, Severus?” Her hand grabbed his, bringing him back to the plan. Skeeter would not be drawn out by drool conversation. He knew that she was looking for secrets and would only risk her being spotted for something to sensationalize. They had agreed acting like they had something to hide would bait the trap more effectively.

Clearing his throat, he looked at Lucius, nodding. “Yes, I have always been private, as you know Lucius. Anything else we may or may not have done over the summer would need to be discussed elsewhere. Skeeter has gotten far too brazen in her attempts to defame and decry both of us. I do hope that I can trust you to respect that and not pry overmuch nor take offense.”

Lucius rose a knowing eyebrow as he nodded back. “Of course, Severus. We wouldn’t dream of invading your privacy in such a fashion, correct Narcissa?”

The woman in question touched her chin and frowned. “I am not trying to pry Severus into something that would put your relationship, or future plans in a bad light. I just want to make sure Hermione has enjoyed her time with you.”

“I have, very much so.” Hermione smirked at him and then looked back to their dinner companions. “He makes a delightful _chair_ in which to read from.”

Severus sputtered for a moment and then sighed at her. “I have let myself, a time or two, be relegated to furniture so that we can read together.”

Something caught his eye. A movement that was out of place among the flowers and the leaves. Whatever Lucius said was lost as Severus honed in on the space.

A flutter of jewelled wings confirmed to Severus that his prey had either just shown up, or was simply now showing her face. Slipping his hand from Hermione’s grasp, he moved to stand up.  “Excuse me for a moment, I will return.”

“Oh yes, of course. Hermione, do tell me more about Severus being a chair for you.” Narcissa hummed, turning his attention to his lady. 

Severus knew that she was dismantling his reputation, but he didn’t seem to mind as long as she felt comfortable. He could rebuild a reputation, changing it to suit his needs. He had no desire to rebuild her once more, so she could be proud or overjoyed about whatever she wished about their relationship.

Slipping out of the private dining area, Severus slipped around the wall of ivy and on to the other side of the divider between them. He was pleased he could not hear an utterance of their conversation, for it meant that Skeeter had to be on that side of the wall to hear anything. Lucius was correct, their wards and privacy spells were top-notch.

With a flick of his wand, Severus sent a sticking spell to the backside of the trellis, so that should she attempt to escape, she would be held securely. It was the first phase of the plan to capture her, preventing any form of an exodus.

Returning to the dining area, slipped around Hermione, moving to stand behind her for a moment. Lucius looked at him curiously, but Severus simply shook his head as he rested his hands on her shoulders.

Hermione’s hand crept up to hold his, and he sensed the unspoken charm travelling up his arm and across his chest into the spell jar. It was like the softest tickle of a feather over his skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

Everything was ready now.

Leaning down, making the best show of it that he could, Severus spoke quietly but loud enough to be heard. “I think, my love, that I have discovered something inherently wrong with your attire. Do you mind if I rectify it?”

“Um, sure,” Hermione offered, the nerves in her voice sounding sincere. 

Hopefully, his approach to two birds one stone would work and not backfire.

“A moment, my lady.” Severus pressed a kiss to her cheek and let her go, moving toward the section of flowers where the beetle had settled.

It was not entirely unknown that Severus was educated in the language of flowers, but he was not sure if Hermione was aware of it. While it was not something he had to draw on often, it was still something he had learned and could recall when needed. It was his luck now, that Rita had perched herself in a bed of pink dahlias. Reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew the jar with one hand and with precision plucked a bloom from the plant. 

Acting as if he did not notice the beetle tucked between the petals, he lifted it up to inspect it. Severus had adept dexterity in his hands from years of potion work, and he removed the cap from the spell jar with his one hand and brought it up to the flower.

“ _Claudo_ ,” He breathed out the command and before Rita Skeeter could take flight, she was sucked into the jar. In one fluid motion, Severus closed the jar and returned to the table, both prizes in his hand.

Hermione was watching him curiously as he moved around her again. This was not part of their plan, and he could see that she was trying to work out what he was doing. The fact that he had her off-kilter would hopefully make this part more meaningful to her.

“A dahlia is a _peculiar_ and _unique_ flower, at least it was held as such during the Victorian age.” Severus began, completely ignoring the fact that Narcissa and Lucius were watching him just as curiously. 

This was not for them, or Rita, or anyone else. This was for Hermione and he would be damed if he missed this oppurtunity because of an audience.  He had achieved his objective of capturing Rita Skeeter, now he was going to succeed in making her feel as if she was the most important person in the world. She was, at least, in his world.

“Why?” Hermione asked, glancing between him and the flower in his hand.

Severus grinned, taking his seat next to her. “Each colour was meant to mean something different. Surely you have heard of the Black Dahlia and how it is the symbol of betrayal. Red was considered to mean power and tremendous strength, whereas white conveyed innocence and purity. This is a pink dahlia, do you know what it meant then when a man gave a woman a pink Dahlia?”

“No, I don’t, what did it mean Severus?” She breathed out quietly.

It seemed to him at that moment that the world had slowed and it was only the two of them. His hand cupped her face and his thumb traced over her cheek. “It is a flower to say that he _loves_ that woman, and she is _irreplaceable_ in his heart. That she is everything good and beautiful in this world, and he would be a fool to not tell her as much _daily_.”

A pinkness crept over her face, and he felt the heat under his hand as she beamed at him. “A flower says all that?”

Holding the flower up for her inspection, he nodded. “Each and every flower has a meaning and that meaning is tied to who is giving and when it is given and whom is receiving it.”

“So if I gave _you_ a pink dahlia, what would it mean?” She asked him, her waterline growing in her eyes. 

Severus hoped it was potential tears of happiness and that this display of his emotions was not going to fall flat as he answered her. 

“This is a flower that shares the meaning regardless of gender.” He pushed her hair back from her ear and lifted the flower as if to show that he was going to tuck it behind her ear. “May I?”

“Yes.” She turned her head toward him.

Tucking the stem behind her ear, he pressed the petals so it would lean against her face, but far enough back to not totally obscure her view. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you, Severus.” Her fingers moved up, and she pressed at the corner of her eye. 

Severus leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Of course.”

It was then that a throat-clearing across the table reminded him it was not, in fact, only the two of them in the universe. Severus turned to Lucius and arched his eyebrow as if to ask him if he had an issue with what had just happened. The blonde man smirked, lifting his glass of elf wine to him before taking a drink.

Narcissa was glancing between the two of them with something of stunned silence. 

“Are you concerned still, that I treat her _poorly_?” Severus queried, slipping his hand into Hermione’s. 

Hermione gave a muffled chuckle and shook her head. “I think, perhaps, you stepped beyond what they know you capable of, Severus.”

“You should know I am capable of much, Hermione,” Severus said with a smirk, and he shook the spell jar at her, showing that it held the creature they sought.

Her eyes widened like he’d told her Christmas had come early, and he nodded knowingly, tucking it into his breast pocket once more.

“What was that?” Lucius asked, placing his glass back on the table.

Severus shook his head. “Nothing to worry about, a specimen for a later experiment. I was hoping to encounter one.” He gestured to the flowering plants around them. “These bushes attract all manner of insects during the summer.”

The blonde man laughed heartily and leaned forward. "Do you _ever_ stop working, Severus?" Lucius asked.

"Yes," Severus answered pointedly as he ensured the spell jar was buttoned into his breast pocket.

Lucius gestured to the flower that Severus had just placed behind Hermione's ear. "Is that a specimen for a later experiment as well?"

Severus tilted his head and stared at his friend as if he were daft. "I would think you of all people should know what a gift looks like." His eyes darted to Narcissa. "He acts as if he has never given you a flower before."

Narcissa returned Severus's snipe with a teasing smirk as she wrapped her arm around her husband’s. "I believe instead Severus, he has never seen you give someone a flower before."

"You should become accustomed to it, Lucius. You cannot expect I will only ever gift her with books and unerring intellectual conversation." His long fingers intertwined with Hermione's as he glanced over to her, one eyebrow raised as if he expected her to say something contrary to what he had. "While I know you enjoy both, you deserve flowers as well."

“I—” She hesitated, and then she turned to Lucius. “He does, in fact, stop working.”

Lucius shook his head. “I will believe it when I see it. And I have yet to witness it.”

Shifting in his seat, Severus gave a gentle squeeze to Hermione’s hand. “I believe Hermione can attest to the fact that I have spent a great deal of my summer not working, but instead spending time with her.” 

Their eyes met once more and Severus smirked. It was met with a blush before she turned her attention back toward the Malfoys.

“Yes, we have done a lot together this summer,” she began, nodding. “However, I do like my alone time as much as he does. It suits us both, as he goes into the garden or his labs, and I will work on cleaning and restoring his house.”

Narcissa brought her hand up to her chest, her wrist bent at an elegant angle as her lower lip dropped momentarily. Her eyes flicked over Severus, and she was chastising him with her eyes before she spoke to Hermione directly. “You are cleaning his house?”

Of course, Narcissa would assume he had somehow managed to turn her into Cinderella in his house. Her theatrics would have been amusing if they had not been directed at him.

Hermione appeared equally taken aback, her eyebrows lifted and her face tilted slightly. “Not like _that_ , Severus isn’t messy or anything of the sort. I am _restoring_ it — it’s an old house with some good bones, it merely needs some elbow grease to bring out its charm.”

The way she spoke about his house, with her voice full of warmth and admiration, settled into his ribs, soothing the sting of Narcissa’s unspoken accusation.

Narcissa’s face crinkled, her nose moving up. “Merlin, that sounds like it is _exhausting_.”

“Oh, it is, but it is so rewarding.” Hermione squeezed his hand as she took in a breath. “Have you ever been in his kitchen?”

“I cannot say I have.” Narcissa offered. “I have only been to his home _once_ before.”

Her icy blue eyes met Severus’s, but he did not need her pointed expression to remember the only time she’d come to Spinner's End. That rainy and dreary night sealed many fates, his own included. Acknowledging that he did indeed remember that time with a slight nod of his head, he returned his attention to Hermione, who was gushing about the work she’d done in the kitchen. She had every reason to be proud of it, he was impressed himself with how she had changed the room. Even now he had lingering questions on how she had managed to not only change the way it looked but also its atmosphere. This summer was the first time in a long time it seemed like home instead of a house he inhabited in the summer.

“And there was this wallpaper — faded from years of being there, and I restored it. It is so beautiful, its _fleur-de-lis_ are bronze, not yellow.” She spoke passionately, her hands expressing the same excitement as her words.

He took the slight break in her conversation to speak. “I will interject I have told her a million times that she does not _need_ to do this.”

“I _want_ to do it,” Hermione’s head turned toward him, gracing him with a vibrant smile. “I enjoy it.”

Lucius clapped his hands together, clasping them. “I see, sounds like you are making it a lovely home for the _both_ of you.”

“I— _ah_.” She stumbled over her words. Her brown eyes flicked back to him as if she was unsure if she should agree with the statement.

“Yes, she is.” He squeezed her hand encouragingly. “I have made it clear to her that she is welcome to be there with me as long as she wishes. Be that tomorrow, or until she is _sick_ of me. I doubt I will grow sick of her.”

“ _Severus_ ,” she squeaked, and her other hand came to cover her face.

Both his eyebrows raised at the sound that emitted from her, and he cocked his head to the side. “Have I embarrassed you?”

“No, I merely am not used to this,” Hermione whispered quietly, her face blooming red from her neck up. 

“So I have been told—” Severus leaned toward her ear, the rest of his words only for her. “—however, I expect you to grow accustomed to it. As long as you allow me, _love_ , I will show you that you are wanted.”

The flush rose higher, her pinkened cheeks now shifting to that shade. Her eye met his, appreciation and awe overflowing into him. Her mouth did not need to utter the words, for he could clearly could read it on her face as she uttered: “Thank you.”

“You two are something else, I have to say,” Narcissa said.

Severus turned his head just in time to see Lucius touch his wife’s arm. “Narcissa. Don’t tease them.”

“No, Lucius, it is a compliment.” The blonde woman sniped at her husband before turning back to them. “I have _never_ in all the years I have known you, Severus—seen you this happy and dare I say, healthy.”

“I do feel as if it has been a better summer than summers past.” Severus offered.

It seemed that Narcissa was not done as she turned to his companion. “And while I have not the same experience with you, Hermione, I have to say that you appear as vibrant as him. Whatever you two are doing, be it reading or otherwise, it is doing you both good.”

“Thank you, Mrs—Narcissa.” 

Severus took a drink of his tea and observed as Hermione’s skin tone returned closer to its normal shade.

A quiet settled over the table again. Severus did not find it uncomfortable and took the lull in conversation as a time to finish his tea.

“Lucius, what time is it?” Narcissa nudged her husband as she set down her glass of Elf-made wine.

Lucius leaned back a bit, seeking his pocket watch from his pocket. He opened it with a flourish and read it off to her. “Half-past eight my dear.”

“Well, I suppose we should be off to home.” Narcissa touched her napkin to the corner of her lips. “No doubt that you have work to do Severus, with your _specimen_.”

Severus nodded, his hand once again reaching up to ensure the glass jar was in his breast pocket.

“Thank you for inviting us, it was a lovely meal,” Hermione stated happily. “We should do this again.”

Narcissa rose from her chair, offering her a sincere smile. “Hermione, of course, we should do this again. But, not until after the wedding. I am up to my ears in decisions and decorators.”

“I understand that.” 

An expression of commiseration passed between the two of them.

“Yes, you would.” A plotting smile crossed the blonde woman’s lips. “Say, if you ever get bored with restoring the house, you are always welcome to come by for tea. Perhaps you could check if there is anything you’d like to help with for the wedding, I know Draco and Viktor wouldn’t mind.”

Severus got to his feet and pulled Hermione’s chair out so that she could rise from her seat as well. 

“Thank you,” she thanked before turning back to Narcissa. “I could help you organize all the information.”

Lucius caught his elbow and waved his hand at his wife. “Ladies, while you discuss that, I’d like a word with Severus.”

They stepped out of the dining area and Severus took this moment to flick his wand toward the sticking spell, dismissing it. Lucius was standing calmly at his side, his expression undecipherable. He wondered if something had gone awry in the plan, and they would need to be making adjustments.

“What is on your mind, Lucius?” Severus asked, looking around to see who was within earshot.

The man in question took in a deep breath and sighed. “I say this with the _utmost_ respect to your situation— ” A pause and Lucius studied at Severus with a serious expression . “—but you need to _marry_ that woman.”

Involuntarily, Severus took a step back, his voice jumping an octave. “I beg your pardon.”

It was not what he had expected to hear from Lucius, especially considering how sombre and serious he was behaving.

Lucius put his hand on Severus’s shoulder.

He eyed the hand and then looked back at Lucius, hoping some explanation was on its way. That was not something you simply said without reason or follow up. At least, it wasn’t something someone said to _him_ without those things.

“You look at her like you behold nothing else.” Lucius offered sincerely. “I have known you for a long time, I can consider myself an expert on your expressions. I know this is all uncertain and new. And that you are both adjusting, but I am telling you to not lose your nerve when it is the right time. When that time comes, you _need_ to ask Granger to marry you.”

Perhaps, he had been too open about his love and affection for Hermione at dinner. It was not his intention to have one of his closest friends interpret the situation in such a way. Marriage was something that he doubted would be in the cards for them, considering all she’d been through. He’d already hinted at it, without saying so on the night they discovered they were soulmates, and she had told him it was not the time. Severus would not push the subject, he was contented to have her in his life in whatever capacity made her comfortable.

Severus exhaled through his nose. “It may or may not _ever_ be the right time. But it will be on our own time, not the timeline of others who wish it, have they good intentions or otherwise. I don’t think it is something _either_ of us is ready for right now.”

“I am not telling you to drop on your knee now. But, don’t talk yourself out of a good thing.” Lucius removed his hand and shook his head at him. “Don’t let _everything_ from the past ruin your present. I would love it if I could see you have what I have with Narcissa.”

It was impossible to not snort at the notion. “Constant annoyance is something I _already_ have with you and Narcissa.”

Lucius’s nose crinkled. “I mean love and companionship, Severus, don’t be daft.”

“I am not.” Severus retorted, inclining his head. “I appreciate your concern and discretion. It is uncharacteristic of you to take me aside rather than asking when it is going to happen. I am telling you that this is not the time.”

It appeared then that Lucius got the message, nodding as he adjusted his cane into his primary hand. “As long as you don’t let that time slip away.”

“I _won’t_ , Lucius,” Severus stated, closing the subject with his tone. “Is that all you wish to speak about?”

“Oh, no, I wanted to ensure that you managed to collect your little _eavesdropper_.” Lucius tilted his head, his eyes flicking to the front of his coat.

“I did indeed.” He nodded, eyes glancing back to where Hermione and Narcissa were behind the vines. “Which is why we need to return to the house.”

“Excellent. Do let me know if you need any assistance.” The elegantly dressed man grinned. “You know I _love_ these kinds of experiments.”

“I will not. I have all the assistance I need in Hermione.” Severus offered, turning to pull back the vines and collect Hermione. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave her too long with Narcissa, there were a great many things Narcissa could say that might upset her.

“I am sure you do.” Lucius gave a gallant shrug. “Narcissa darling, are you ready to go?”

“Yes, Lucius.” The tall woman called, before turning back to Hermione. “It was a pleasure Hermione, and do remember what I have told you.”

“Yes, Mrs—Narcissa. I won’t. Thank you,” Hermione replied.

Severus moved to stand next to her as Narcissa caught his arm. “Goodbye Severus, don’t be a stranger.”

Bowing his head, Severus bade her goodbye. “I will not. Goodnight, Narcissa, Lucius.”

Severus reached for Hermione’s arm and tucked it neatly around his. The pink dahlia still sat perched behind her ear, and he found it only enhanced how lovely she was to him. Lucius and Narcissa floo’d out before them and Severus and Hermione waited as there were other diners leaving at this point as well.

“What did he want to talk about?” Hermione asked quietly.

Severus shifted his jaw and shook his head. “Not something I wish to discuss here. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did, _thank you_.” Her hand squeezed around his arm.

Stepping into the floo, he grabbed some of the powder and before he cast it down, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Anytime, Hermione.”

* * *

“I suspect you are curious as to where you are, Miss Skeeter,” Severus drawled, placing the jar on the workbench. His voice reverberated back at him from the stone walls of his subterranean lab. While it had been well lit when he was down here working with Hermione on the products for George Weasley, he had only lit two oil lamps on the table, making the space seem vast and foreboding with unending darkness. Severus was keen to the fact that the environment would lend to the manner of work he was about to undertake. The lighting made long shadows of alembics and retorts, the light distorting and bouncing through the various glass containers that he had laid out.

The beetle in the container was hopping angrily, its wings flickering as it vaulted itself against the thick glass. 

“It is unbreakable glass.” With precision, he rolled out his tools across the table. “Your persistence does not surprise me, after all, it is why we are _here_ today.”

The flickering light of the gas lamp cast long shadows over the implements that he traced with reverence. Once the proper tools were plucked from their resting place, Severus placed them right next to his captive’s cage. He carefully laid the sharpened needle-thin probe next to a thin narrow knife that curled at the end and finished it off with a small glass container of thin pins. Working wordlessly, Severus summoned to him the large covered jar he had ordered that morning. He placed it on the table opposite of the spell-jar, setting a cutting board between the jars. The silence was to help him center into the role he was playing at the moment and separate from the emotions that lingered from the dinner date.

Hermione was waiting for him upstairs; he’d asked her for one hour before she joined him. He doubted it would take him that long to induce fear into the woman, fear significant enough that she would think long and hard before she ever uttered their names again.

The book he’d drawn inspiration from was on the table, and he flipped it open to the correct page. He needed the diagram that he had noted clearly visible, so he erected a parchment easel and secured it with a sticking charm.

The beetle stilled it’s angry fluttering in the jar, facing the image. 

Severus had taken great care in recalling the species of Skeeter’s Animagus form. Having Hermione there to confirm it had secured it would be accurate. Through the night, Severus had created a dissection diagram unique to the species of jewelled beetle she took the form of and notated exactly what each piece and part would be used for. 

“There are eight stages to this manner of dissection.” He explained as he opened the jar, aptly selecting a beetle between his fingers. Wordlessly, he stunned it before carefully inspecting it. “The first stage is the inspection. You want to ensure that your specimen looks healthy and shows no signs of parasites. All six legs, two wings and two antennae need to be present and not broken or crushed. Since beetle eyes are a common component in household potions, you will also want to ensure that both are also present and in good shape.”

He held the beetle toward the glass spell jar, rotating it to demonstrate what he was saying. “This specimen meets all these requirements. Which means we move on to the second stage.”

Years of practice meant Severus could do this ingredient preparation in his sleep, but he wanted to verbally guide this vile woman through every step of what he could do to her. Setting the insect on its back on the board, Severus selected a pin from the glass container. “The second step is to secure your specimen. While the beetle is stunned, it is _not dead_ and should the spell wear off, you do not want it to get up and walk away. In order to do this, you place your thumb and index finger on either side of the thorax and carefully press the pin into the soft junction between the thorax and the abdomen. This will not damage any of the internal organs that are needed, but it will secure the creature so it cannot attempt any daring escape.”

Severus peered into the jar holding Skeeter with a sneer. “A beetle of your size, however, may need _two_ pins. We will see when we get to that point.”

Returning to the creature before him, he picked up the small curved forceps. “Stage three is where we begin to remove appendages that are accessible from this angle. The wings will be removed at a later stage. I recommend starting from the hind tibia and moving forward toward the head.”

Methodically, he began to sever the legs from the creature, placing them in clear view of the captured reporter. Based on the stillness in which she was exhibiting, it was likely that the reality of her situation was setting in. It was rather hard to contain his smirk at how quickly such an irritant as her could be subdued.

As soon as he finished dismantling the specimen, he wiped his forceps clean on a cloth and set them down. Running his finger over the diagram, he stopped over the heart of the creature. “Stage Four requires precision and control, as we are opening the creature to harvest organs. Too much pressure and you will ruin everything within the carapace, not enough and you will not break through.” He punctuated this information by grabbing a thin razor-edged knife. 

“To do this, you will once again place your thumb and index finger on either side of the thorax, stabilizing the subject. Once you are sure that no rolling will occur, the tip of the blade is placed at the top of the thorax, where it joins the head. With consistent and steady pressure, press the knife until you feel the slight resistance give way.” He demonstrated for Skeeter, pressing until the knife broke through. “ We do _not_ press any further. Once the knife has broken the top of the carapace, simply draw the knife down, keeping your hand at an angle to control your pressure. Do remember, the beetle is not dead _yet_ , Miss Skeeter.”

That seemed to rouse a reaction from the captive Animagus, as she began to bat her wings and try to ram the glass. It was useless other than to tell Severus that he was indeed getting under her skin.

“With no legs and being gutted, I think it _safe_ to say this one will not be getting away.” Setting the blade down, Severus pulled the pin securing the insect to the board. “Subsequently, on to Stage Five, which is harvesting organs, we open the carapace by using your index fingernails and separating it back.”

He took his time, far more time than he would normally, to open the creature under his fingers. Rita Skeeter was getting more agitated in her jar and Severus wanted to drive home this could easily be her under his hands. 

“Once the carapace is separated you can remove it, allowing you to access to the reagents within. Allow me to provide you with a better vantage point. I would not wish you miss _any of this_.” Severus levitated the spell jar in front of him and just over where he was working. Selecting the straight forceps, he began to carefully empty the creatures of its internal organs. “Here you will notice the reproductive system, commonly used in some medicinal potions. Below that you will observe the nervous system. We will leave that intact for now, as I am not ready for the insect to die just _yet_.”

Each part was placed into a separate jar for collection as Severus deftly dissected it. “Now that we have removed the rest of the system, and the creature is an empty husk, I will remove its nervous system and endocrine system. I cannot say that I will offer you the _same_ courtesy.”

Delicately placing the endocrine system in a collection jar, Severus then cleaned this set of forceps.

“We still have three stages, but these require repositioning of the subject. You will carefully flip it over, making sure to not damage the head. The next stage is removing the eyes. Beetle eyes are compound and delicate, but also challenging to remove." He paused as he brought up the needle like probe, tapping it against the glass of his audience. “Which is why I need this. This tool will break the membrane that holds the eye in place, making for easy removal. This stage can be done _before_ you open the carapace, but it requires more flipping. I think, however, I will consider the extra effort.” 

Severus put his finger on the creature’s back, steadying it before he brought the point to the edge of the eye. “You must remember to press toward the socket, not the eye. Injecting the probe into the membrane you will exert force to the outside edge of the socket. Once you have circled the whole eye another tool must be used.”

He could hear the beetle clicking and shaking and protesting in the spell jar. He simply raised an eyebrow and reached for his adjacent tool without breaking sight of Skeeter. “This is a gouger. It is specifically designed to remove the eye with the least amount of damage possible.” What he held in his hands was the long thin knife with the curve at the end. He tapped the glass with it once before looking back down at his work.

“You will press the curve of the gouger around the inner eye area, sinking it past the broken membrane about a millimetre. Then, twist with your wrist, not your fingers and lift, removing the eye completely.” Producing a perfectly-harvested beetle eye, the potion's master ensured he allowed his captive to view it before he placed it in the jar full of preserving solution. “You will, of course, repeat this process for the other eye.”

Without uttering another word, he removed the other eye with exaggerated movements meant to accentuate the process in the most gruesome fashion he could. Tapping the gouger on the collection glass to drop the second eye into the liquid, he assessed Skeeter. It was hard to read emotions on a beetle, but he could tell she was certainly agitated. She continued to slap her wings and legs against the glass and was making clicking sounds he supposed was the beetle version of yelling.

“Stage seven is where _your_ dissection will differ from this one. This beetle has a different shaped elytra than you. The elytra, _as you should know_ , is the protective carapace that goes over the folded wing of a beetle.” Tapping the section with his finger, he continued. “Yours is rounder, and so I will have to pull it up from the back, rather than this one which is oblong and can be pulled from the side. Observe.” 

Using the forceps, Severus grasped the side of the solid cover of the wings and turned it upward. “To separate it, you will need to pull upwards and out to break the joint without damaging the wing. This can also be done _before_ you open the carapace. Something to think about, Miss Skeeter.”

Severing the wings, he placed them next to the legs and antennae laid out on the board.

“We now come to the final stage and perhaps the most delicate. Beetle wings can be substituted for nearly any other insect wing. It will yield a less effective brew but can be useful in a pinch. They also are valuable for their use in certain charms.” He needed two tools for this, the scissors and the padded forceps. Collecting both in his hand, he focused his dark eyes on his unwilling audience. “First, the wings must be unfolded, which you will use the padded forceps for. This is to ensure that you do not puncture the wing or otherwise damage it. Once it is extended, you will snip precisely at the joint with the shears, separating them permanently from the body. If you do this to a beetle while it is still alive, _it will survive_ , but never fly again.”

With great finesse, Severus removed both wings intact and laid them carefully down. Setting his tools aside, he wiped his hands clean with a cloth. “That is how you properly dissect a common beetle to secure the most amount of reagents from one specimen.” 

He paused, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing the Animagus with a stare that encompassed all the many things he wanted to say and do to her. “Do you have any questions before we move on to _you_?”

More clicking, frantic and the beetle jumped and jerked in the jar.

Taking it as opposition, he grasped the jar in his hand, breaking it from its suspension in the air. “What precisely did you _expect_ would happen, Miss Skeeter. You have continued to assassinate my character. You call me an ex-Deatheater when you are forbidden from doing so by law, you insinuate I have had an affair with an _underage_ student, and you have, on many occasions, called me a _murderer_.” His lips drew back as he snarled at her. “Did you not think that perhaps, _just perhaps_ , pissing off someone you believe to be a murderer was a deadly gamble. No one will _know_ what happened to you, no one will _find_ your body and since you’ve disappeared from the public eye, you will already be in a potion before they know you are _missing_.”

Rita Skeeter pressed herself flat against the glass and then unceremoniously fell on her back, legs straight up. 

It caused Severus to pause in his tirade, wondering if it was some manner of dramatic response or if he had actually killed her. He did not put it past her to be dramatic even as an insect. Rocking the jar back and forth got no response. She simply hit the side of the jar without even an attempt to catch herself. Flicking his wand over her, it was easy to see that she was still alive.

“Merlin above, the woman _fainted_.” Severus groaned, running his hand over his face. 

  
  
  
  



	84. Vows and The Trial Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Hermione's point of view.
> 
> This chapter took much longer than I anticipated because a lot is going on in it. I hope you enjoy it. We are so close to finishing the arc of Ron and this makes me sooo happy.
> 
> Thank you for your patience and support! <3
> 
> Biggest shoutout to CorvusDraconis, who catches me before I 'de-story' everything.

The stairs creaked under her feet as she descended from the first floor. Hermione wrung her hands in front of her, her skin tingling with nerves. Moving over the wooden floor of the library in her bare feet and shaking her hands to try to get the anxiety in her chest to shrink, she struggled to find something to do. Anything to occupy her mind from what she could imagine was happening in Severus’s lab.

He hadn’t told Hermione what he was going to do to Skeeter, only that he was going to hurt the reporter as much as her words had hurt Hermione. While she rationally and logically knew that was supposed to comfort her, Hermione was struggling with one of her biggest downfalls. She hated not knowing precisely what was going to happen. Being kept in the dark about things made her mind go to the worst-case scenario every time. If she was prepared for the worse, then anything that happened in between would manageable. It had kept her and others alive in the past.

Sighing, she studied the clock. 

Thirty minutes had passed. 

She had another half-hour to sit up in the house and to pace and worry. Already she had showered and changed to keep her mind from convincing her to go and see what Severus had planned in the underground lab.

Shaking her head, Hermione stepped into the kitchen, pulling the old kettle from the stove and filling it with water. If she was going to have to wait, she could at least have some tea while she did. Maybe it would calm her nerves, or maybe it would merely help the time pass faster. Listening to the water, rather than watching it, she glanced out the kitchen window at the metal door in the ground that Severus and Skeeter were currently in. Once it was full, she moved to the stove, turning it on and watching the flames leap to life from the gas burner. Hermione sought distraction in everything she could.

But try as she might, her mind kept drifting back to this plan. She was supposed to wait up here for an hour, one hour alone with Rita was all he asked. Then she would have to go down there and based on how Rita was behaving determined her part. If she seemed genuinely sorry, then they would talk and seek some manner of security that Skeeter would leave them be. Hermione already knew exactly what she wanted in that regard. This was not the option of the plan that bothered her.

It was the option if Rita was unapologetic that had her skin vibrating. If Rita was unwilling to make a deal with them, then Hermione would have to do something she wasn’t completely comfortable with. Between the two of them, Severus was a master of Occulemency and Legimmens, but Hermione was an expert on Obliviating Charms. If Rita refused to leave them alone, then Hermione would make her forget they even existed. She knew she could do it, but she didn’t want to. 

They had spoken at length about it, her and Severus, and he had accepted and understood her discomfort. Even to the point where he had said he would then do it to prevent Hermione even having to be involved. But to her, that was somehow worse. It was putting him a position where he had asked for help because something was not his strength, and she would leave him unsupported to do it on his own. Hermione couldn’t do that to him. She just had to hope it did not come to that.

The whistle of the kettle brought her back from her musings, and she turned off the stove, fetching her teacup. Glancing through the cabinet, she got down the green tea she’d gotten from the shop and prepared her cup. Steam lifted from the hot water as it soaked the leaves, the water gaining tint as the tea strengthened.

Another glance at the clock. 

Her distant musing had shifted the clock a whole quarter-hour forward. 

Teacup in hand, she went back to the library and sat in her chair. Her _‘to read’_ pile was nearly as high as the chair’s arm. She was fortunate that Severus did not complain about it because she had them in exactly the precise order she wanted to read them. She’d plotted out how she was going to get the most out of his library, and she would have to read at least two books a day to get to the benchmark she had set herself before the returned to school. 

That was a whole different set of worries she did not want to dwell in. Lucius had asked them about going back to Hogwarts, and that told her that Severus had not discussed with him how her position was up in the air. Hermione desperately wanted to speak to Minerva, to get this settled, but she knew that Minerva deserved the holiday. Not to mention that Hermione had too many plates spinning at the moment as it was. Once the trial was over, and this business with Rita was done, one way or another, then she hoped they would have peace, even for two weeks. 

Sighing into her teacup, she took a long drink of the steaming brew. Part of her wanted to start reading a book to distract her, but Hermione was worried she would get too involved and leave Severus to handle the situation on his own. Merlin, she hoped Rita was cooperative. The more she thought about wiping the woman’s memory, the more her stomach turned and shifted.

Yes, she was angry, even furious with the woman _(if you could even call that drama-mongering kettle-stirrer a woman.)_ She loathed her on a level that had once been reserved for a select few— like Ronald or Molly Weasley. But lately, the list of people she wanted to scrub out of her life was getting larger rather than smaller. Still— she knew she would rather not strip Rita of her memories no matter how much she deserved it. A part of her wanted Rita to make the choice to be a better person, as unrealistic and naive as the notion was— despite how many times she had proven Rita only cared about what was important to Rita.

On a deep level, Hermione realized she didn’t want to take away anyone’s choice— whether it be House-elf, goblin, or human. She had lived a life without choices, and it was that very lack of choice or illusion of it that had caged her in a life she had never asked for.

The clock began to chime out the hour. It was time for her to join them. Finishing her tea, she got up, heading to the kitchen. Setting the cup in the sink to be washed when they came back up, Hermione closed her eyes. Her hands gripped the sink, and she took in several deep breaths, letting them out slowly each time. 

She had to do this. If they ever wanted peace, then this was the road that had to take. There was no other way, everything had been exhausted. 

_ Merlin, please let whatever he has been doing have worked… _

Grabbing her wand, she made her way to the back garden, making sure the house was locked on her way out. The stone in the garden crunched under her feet as she made her way to the hatch in the dark. Placing her hand on the handle, she breathed out the password, and it opened with no resistance. 

No noise came up to greet her. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected to hear—maybe crying or perhaps yelling. Neither of those would have startled her, but the silence sent a wash of trepidation up her spine. 

Climbing down the ladder, she looked around and recognized Severus, silhouetted by firelight standing at one of his workstations. His hands were moving deftly at whatever task he was doing; she couldn’t tell from how dim it was in here.

Behind him, perched on a stone chair and bound by glowing ropes, was Rita Skeeter, her head lulled forward, unmoving.

“Severus, what did you do to her?” Hermione asked in a sharp whisper, coming up to his side.

A beleaguered sigh escaped him. “She fainted. I did not lay a hand on her, but it seems her mental strength and constitution are greatly lacking.” His words were punctuated with a sickening crack. 

Her eyes glanced to his worktable to see him splitting open a dead beetle. Taking in the whole set up before her, she tilted her head at him curiously. “Dare I ask what transpired?”

“Later, when we are not waiting for her rouse.” Severus paused in his work and looked up at her, firelight flicking in his black eyes and highlighting the golden circle in his irises. “I expect when she does come to, she will agree to whatever you ask of her, and our alternative plan will not need to be utilized.”

A weight fell from Hermione’s shoulders, and she let out a breath she did not know she was holding. “Really?”

“I do believe so,” Severus answered her, turning back to his workspace. His voice was low and sounded weary as if he were exhausted.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Hermione worried about him. “Are you alright?”

“Of course.” He jerked a hand toward the bound woman. “She, however, is much heavier than she looks. Carrying her as a beetle is one thing, but disfiguring her to her natural state and then getting her into that chair was a task I was not prepared for. I have become accustomed to lifting you and not someone of her mass.”

Hermione shook her head. “If you keep giving me those potions in my coffee, I may become as heavy. I’m almost back to the weight I was when I was just starting at the ministry.”

“I do believe that is your cooking, not the potion since I haven’t put it in your coffee since we left Hogwarts.” Severus offered succinctly, “While I think you look beautiful, you are not the only one who has noticed a weight change in themselves.”

Just as she was about to respond, Rita made a groaning sound. Hermione took a step back to look at her and out of the corner of her eye watched as Severus straightened his stance.

“Are you rejoining us, Miss Skeeter?” he hissed.

Rita Skeeter’s head snapped up, her blonde hair whipping back as her eyes widened when they landed on Severus. Her mouth gaped for a moment, her jaw then moving like she wanted to say something before she flicked her eyes to Hermione.

“Please don’t let him dissect me, Granger,” she whimpered out, sucking in a gasp of air. 

It explained a lot, like why Severus was rendering potion ingredients, but she couldn’t take the time to contemplate on that. It was time for her part, her time on this stage. Hermione crossed her arms, furrowing her forehead. “Why would I stop him? Aren’t I simply his, what did you call me—” Her fingers came to her lips, and she took another step toward the woman. “Oh yes, _his harlot_. Why would his harlot stop him from dissecting you?”

“Please!” Rita pleaded.

Another loud crack came from her left, and she turned to see Severus was dissecting another beetle. Hermione knew it was not normally that loud, so he had to have done something to make it more noticeable.

His deep voice rumbled past her. “It is unfortunate, Miss Skeeter, that you passed out during my demonstration. We were just about to move on to yours.” 

Hermione watched as panic crossed over the blonde woman’s features at Severus’s words. Her breathing hitched and her pupils dilated. It wasn’t only worry or concern, it was genuine fear. 

“Please,  _ for the love of Merlin _ , don’t let him piece me out and put me in potions!” Rita’s voice shook as her eyes moved over them both.

She should have felt troubled the woman experienced such fear, but Hermione knew that she wasn’t in any true danger. 

Her finger traced her lips thoughtfully, and she took a step closer to Rita’s chair. “Give me one reason why I should even consider stopping him.”

“I will do whatever you want.” The reporter gasped out, her hands shaking. “I won’t ever write about you again, I’ll never _ write  _ again.”

A snort escaped Hermione. This was a song and dance she had heard before, and it was not one that she would be swayed by again. Not when Skeeter had already proven she could not keep a promise. 

Leaning forward into her space, she shook her head. “Didn’t we have this conversation _ before _ ? After the Triwizard tournament? Didn’t you say you would never write bad press about Harry, Ron, or I ever again? And then, didn’t you turn around and do just that from the start of the war to all but two days ago?”

The already pale Rita Skeeter lost more of her colour as it drained down her neck. 

Another sickening sound of beetle preparation echoed in the silence that was created by Rita’s lack of reply.

Skeeter flinched. “I am sorry! I swear, I will never write about you again.”

Watching Skeeter react so viscerally made Hermione anxious, and she leaned back taking control of a swell of her own fear rising up. It was reactionary, the ripple of her emotions upsetting the calm of Hermione’s. Reminding herself that neither of them was in any danger, she took in a deep breath, sighing with the exhale.

“I wouldn’t take her blattering to heart, she is only begging because her life is on the line.” Severus offered, his voice rumbling with warnings and promises.

Rita’s head shook violently side to side.“No,  _ no _ ! I swear I am sorry, so sorry. I’ll stop the newsletter, you will never hear from me  _ ever again _ .”

The rising timbre of her voice was inciting a riot in Hermione’s own mind, the fear transferring between them. It was only because Hermione had learned to control her emotions that she was not being swept under the waves of Skeeter’s panic and into an attack of her own. Occluding from her emotions and wayward thoughts, she was able to see that Skeeter would not hold up much longer under the pressure that they were both applying. Severus has shaken her to her core and that was obvious.

“What type of assurances can you give me to make me even consider this.” Hermione queried. “Your word means nothing to me, you gave that once and  _ broke _ it. What do you have that is even worth the lack of peace you’ve saddled me with over these years?”

A light of hope erupted in Skeeter’s eyes, her lips fumbling as she stammered over her words. “I—what do you want? I can give you whatever you want. If it is mine you can have it.”

Hermione’s eyes flicked over to the workbench, catching the dark silhouette of Severus’s back. Determination crossed Hermione’s features and turned to and held Skeeter’s gaze. 

She knew that this woman was only willing to bargain with her because she saw her as the only salvation from Severus and what he had promised to do to her. Hermione could only imagine what Severus had proposed in the hour that he had with her. 

Her brown eyes fixed Rita’s green with a hard stare, letting the silence increase the pressure on them both. This was an option that she had considered in depth since yesterday and she was once more reconsidering it. It was a far better option than obliviation. While Severus was in the lab this morning preparing, Hermione was researching and settling on the one thing that could be given by this woman that would make her believe her.

The only issue was that it had not been discussed with Severus, much like he had not discussed with her what his plans for Skeeter had been when he had her alone. Hermione hadn’t had time to do so and now she wondered if this would be something that he would resist her on.

Some part of her was sure that he would try to dissuade her and that meant that she had to be absolutely certain about this course of action. Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose, watching as Rita squirmed under her intense gaze. Like she was looking for a way out.

She made her mind up then, it was the only way. Rita would try to squirm and weasel her way out of anything else. Severus would not be able to secure it from her any other way either. This was the only way to secure that which she desired— peace from Rita’s libel and defamation once and for all.

“I want an _unbreakable vow_.” Hermione’s words left her in a determined whisper that seemed to thunder through the room.

The air grew still. It was as if everything paused and the world was holding its breath in that second. Rita looked at her with dinner plates for eyes, but it was not her that spoke first.

“Hermione?” Severus said her name quietly, and there was something apprehensive in his tone.

Hermione looked at Severus, lifting one eyebrow as he often did when other’s tried to question him. “Yes?”

His face was an unreadable mask, but she could sense, either through their bond or the closeness they had developed, that he was greatly concerned. 

“This was not something we discussed.” 

Leaning back, Hermione pursed her lips. Hermione nodded as her hands clasped behind her to keep from fidgeting. Now, instead of gazing into Rita’s eyes, she was taken into his black depths.

His head tilted in questioning, but he did not follow his statement up, appearing to wait for her response.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and sighed. “No, it’s not, but it is the only thing that she can give me that will make me believe her.”

She prepared herself for an argument. Hermione was hoping that he would consider it her way, but knowing that there was a chance that with Severus’s history with the Vow that he would never see it as something that was needed. That he would revolt against her asking for such a thing against someone.

She opened her eyes again, expecting to see disappointment.

His lip twitched and Hermione watched him carefully, trying to decode what he was thinking from his reaction alone. His hands had stilled in their work and all of his focus was on her.

“From personal experience, I can tell you that this is not something to be taken lightly. You will be bound by that vow to Rita Skeeter for the rest of _her_ life.”

Hermione took in a deep breath. She understood the risks, what was being put on the line, and it still made her believe that it was the best choice. Anything less would give Rita some hole to burrow out of and return as a nuisance to their lives. 

“And if she decides to break it, we will be bound for a short time. If you break the vow, you  _ die _ . If she isn’t willing to put her life on the line to get to stroll out of here, then it’s not worth it to me to let her go.”

The sound of his tools being placed on the cutting board was just as loud as the cracking of the beetle had been. Severus took a step toward her, his eyes boring into hers. She did not feel the brush of his mind over hers, he was not seeking to speak to her. He had to be searching for something else as he stopped in front of her. “Surely there must be another solution, something that can be done to ensure she does as we ask  _ without _ this.”

If there had been another solution, she would have asked for it. As Hermione saw it, there was nothing that would stop Rita from lying to them aside from a vow on her life. Even a curse could be undone, a hex removed. An unbreakable vow was just that,  _ unbreakable _ . Hermione had already gone on declarations and swears and empty promises. 

She had watched as Skeeter tried to destroy her life with words. Watched as she showcased her pain as if it were a play, as if it were Hermione scheming to destroy the man who had nearly destroyed her. Hermione wasn’t going to give Rita a chance to try to do that to them. To try to destroy what she and Severus had. 

But if he had something else to offer, something that would work just as surely, she would reconsider her stance. “Can you think of another solution, that we can use right now?”

Severus’s brows knit together. 

His eyes showed a great deal of thought going on, that he was pouring over their options. They were likely ones she had already considered. But he was brilliant and had experience where she had books and research. Perhaps there was something that she had no discovered in her search.

Ignoring Rita, Hermione waited to see if he could offer something that she had not considered.

The side of his lip took a downward dip as his eyes refocused on her. “Unfortunately, I cannot.”

Closing the distance with a final step, Hermione put her hand on his arm. She was searching for some form of approval in his expression as she spoke. “I have thought long and hard about this Severus, I want an unbreakable vow from her. I will trust nothing else.”

His eyes closed and his lip twitched to the side. Silence pervaded around them again, heavy with his unspoken words.

“Have you set your mind on this, Hermione?” He asked her with a tone almost resigned as he opened his eyes to look at her.

She nodded her head softly. “I have, Severus.”

“Then I will not foolishly try to dissuade you.” His voice was sharp. Taking a step away from her, he turned back to his workstation. 

Part of her was afraid that she had angered him, but it was something they would have to discuss later, once this was settled. 

Returning her attention to Skeeter, she crossed her arms. “So, Rita, what do you say? Are you willing to forge an unbreakable vow agreeing to my stipulations that you will never interfere in my life again?”

Rita Skeeter was glancing back and forth between them as if she was considering who was the real threat in the room. Hermione could spot the calculation, the fear might have slowed it in the woman’s eyes, but it was there.

The papery sound of wings being severed from a beetle’s body filled the empty space. It appeared that this affirmed to Skeeter that Severus was more of a threat as Skeeter fixed her eyes on Hermione. 

She pleaded quietly. “Yes, yes, _ anything _ , just don’t let him turn me into a potion ingredient!”

With a smirk Hermione tipped her head, peering at Severus over her shoulder as she crossed her arms. “Very well. Severus, please don’t turn her into a potion's reagent.”

He sighed loudly as he shook his head. Looking at them both while brandishing a pair of scissors, Severus replied. “Honestly, she would have made anything I brewed unpalatable and likely unusable.”

It was likely the truth. There were no studies done on what would happen if you used an Animagus form of a wizard as potion reagents. It was not only a frowned-upon practice but illegal. Perhaps, someone had tried it before, but Hermione was certain that it would only be found in a book in the Department of Mysteries.

Rita squeaked. “You are really going to let me go if I make an unbreakable vow?” The desperation with just a touch of hope filled the woman’s face.

Hermione uncrossed her arms. “Yes, but you must agree to all the stipulations.”

“Miss Skeeter,” Severus’s voice drawled on her name. “—you do understand that if you do not adhere to the vow that you will die.”

Skeeter looked at him and swallowed, her face still pale. “And if I don’t give her that vow right now, I will die too?”

It seemed that Skeeter understood the predicament that they were trying to create here. It didn’t matter that they had no intention of turning her into a potion, all that mattered was that she believed they would. Severus was right when he said that he could make her agree to anything given an hours time with her.

“As long as you are clear on the stakes then I presume we can proceed.” Severus moved over to the sink opposite his workbench, the sound of running water adding to the shadowed atmosphere.

Hermione unbound Rita’s wand arm as Severus washed his hands behind her. The woman’s hand was clammy and her fingers shook as she gripped Hermione’s hand. It was hard to not tell her that it was all going to be okay, to not offer her comfort or assurance. There was a draw in Hermione to comfort her, but now was not the time. Not when they had now secured what was needed from her.

She sensed, rather than saw, Severus move up behind her before coming to her side. His long black wand was between his fingers, and he scanned between them both. 

This was it, there was no going back once this ritual began. 

Hermione was willingly binding herself to Rita Skeeter in exchange for never worrying again about what rubbish the witch was writing about Severus or her. It was worth her peace for her to do this. 

Grasping Rita’s hand tight, Hermione started with the first, and in her opinion, most important stipulation. “Do you, Rita Skeeter, promise to never write about me or Severus _ever again_ , either separately or together.”

Rita nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

A white line left Severus’s wand and wound around their wrists. She could feel the icy pull of the magic on her own magic. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, not painful, but not pleasant either.

Hermione did not look away from Rita as she asked for the second condition of her release. “Do you swear to not provide false testimony against either of us for any reason in the future?”

“Yes,” Rita said, tilting her head as if she was not sure why that was included but still agreeing.

A second strand of magic bound around their hands, pulling tighter and feeling colder. Hermione wondered if all unbreakable vows felt this cold or if it was just how she was perceiving it. It would be something she asked Severus later. She was sure there would be a conversation about this later.

“Do you swear you will not do anything  _ knowingly _ that will disturb us or our lives ever again?” Hermione’s demand encompassed all that she considered the woman could do. By agreeing to this, Skeeter could never knowingly interfere in her life again. 

The woman did not hesitate to swear it. “Yes, yes, of course. I swear.”

The last cord of magic left his wand, wrapping around them. The intense cold was replaced with what felt like a flashburn, leaving behind faint scars. It nearly took her breath away and she heard Rita gasp as well. Hermione let Rita’s hand go, standing up now.

Severus had tucked his wand away into his sleeve, his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at her. It was obvious that he was not pleased, but she wasn’t sure if he was angry or just unhappy.

Stepping away, she undid the woman’s binds with a flick of her wand. “You are free to go. I am sure Severus will Apparate you wherever you wish to go.”

Rita looked at her unbound hands and then flexed her arms in, glancing between the two of them. “He is not going to break me into pieces or hex me? I will just get to go wherever I want to go?”

Severus sneered. “Within reason, I am not a knight bus.”

“I would go before we change our minds,” Hermione said pointedly.

Severus looked down on Rita. “And Miss Skeeter, if you  _ ever _ mention what you and I discussed here, you will not get the leniency that Hermione has provided you from  _ me _ .”

What little color that had started returning to the woman drained away just as quickly. “Of course, not a word, it never happened.”

Hermione found herself puzzled as to what had transpired down here. It was obvious that Severus had scared the hell out of her, but what had he said to her?

“Are you ready to depart, or shall I start another beetle?” He gestured toward his workbench.

Skeeter jumped to her feet, her lips trembling. “Please take me to Cambridge station. _Please_.” The second please was almost in a begging tone. 

Severus extended his arm to her. “Your arm.”

Tentatively, Rita Skeeter put her arm on Severus’s and with a pop, they were gone.

Hermione let out the breath she was holding, the thin veneer of being in control cracking around her. While she was able to keep away Skeeter’s fear and panic, it did not help when her own started in. Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her forehead. Silvery scars danced over her palm, and she knew that Severus would have something to say about what had transpired. It was part of the source of her concern. He had given no indication of how precisely he felt about her decision, only that he did not agree. Knowing it was likely going to be a long evening, she headed back into the house. She wanted to sit in the library instead of his lab while they talked this over.

* * *

A half an hour later, a noise alerted her to the fact that Severus had opened the back door. She knew it was thirty minutes because she had been staring at the clock, watching the second hand tick by as her anxiety climbed up her throat and spread over her skin. It had started as a small insistent thought, a notion that he was more than displeased and it had warped in the time he’d been absent into this hulking beast that had seized her senses. Tucked into her chair, her feet underneath of her, Hermione tensed as she heard the door close. 

_ Was he mad at her? _

_ Had she crossed a line? _

It was all she could think about, her mind painting a picture of all the ways he could be angry with her. Even when she knew that logically there was zero reason for it, a part of her deep down, was terrified. More of his response than of him, but the fear still sat in her gut churning.

The bookcase that concealed the door to the hall opened and his black eyes scanned over her. She sat perfectly still, her heart caught in her throat and her chest burning against breathing. 

Wordlessly, he entered the room and sat in his chair heavily. Severus did not look at her, his nose flaring as he took in a deep breath. 

Hermione felt like she could scarcely breathe, but she pulled in a quiet shallow breath.

“Hermione.” He sounded weary.

Swallowing back against the hard lump in her throat, she managed to force out a sound. “Yes?”

Severus turned, one brow arched as he scanned over her. “You know that was unfair of you, don’t you?”

A litany of apologies crowded her mind and Hermione blinked back against the anxiety that was trying to induce her to cry. “Yes, I am sorry Severus.”

Hermione became hyperaware of the fact that he was examining her. His head tilted to the side slightly, both eyebrows lifted. Shifting in his wing-backed chair, Severus reached his hand across gap, over the table laden with books between them, his fingers outstretched to her. 

“Hermione, I am not angry with you.” He offered with his hand.

“You aren’t?” She could scarcely believe him against the raging concern in her saying differently. Uncurling her fingers from around her arm, she placed her hand in his gingerly.

His fingers closed around hers firmly. “I am not angry. I am disappointed that you did not talk to me about forging an Unbreakable Vow with Rita Skeeter. I am displeased that I had to be the one to execute said vow without being prepared. but I am not angry at you.”

“I am so sorry, I didn’t— _ It was the only way _ .” Hermione tried to explain. 

He nodded, “Yes, but a warning would have been appreciated. Now that you are bound to her, _ so am I _ , through our soulbond. I do not know how that will affect any of the three of us.”

The noise in her mind was sliced in twain with his statement, a stillness pervading around the fact that she had not considered that. In fact, their soulbond wasn’t factored in at all when she had made her decision. Not that she’d forgotten about it, it was impossible for her to forget about it, but it had not occurred to her that an unbreakable vow would have some effect someone’s soul. Nor did she consider that what was done to her soul would not only connect, but also reflect on to Severus’s.

“I didn’t think about that.” Hermione gasped. “I am so sorry, Severus.”

“Hermione,” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “You do not have to apologize. You were correct, Miss Skeeter would not have relented with anything less than a threat on her life. Now that she is bound, she will think more than once before dealing with us.”

Letting some tension out with a breath, Hermione nodded at him. Her hands were shaking, as the tension manifested externally. Even if he said he wasn’t angry, it didn’t mean that her body would just readily accept it.

His thumb slid over the back of her knuckles. “You are trembling, _why_?”

Gliding her free hand over her face, she looked away from him, at the unlit hearth. 

“I—” Another deep breath escaped her. “I was afraid that—that you were angry with me. I am very anxious right now.”

“I am not. You have no reason to be afraid of it or me.” It was stated as a fact.

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply to will away the tremble in her fingers and the quiver of fear in her heart. Her mind knew that she was safe, perfectly safe with Severus, but her body was reacting against her own will. On muscle memories that she would rather forget.

“It has been an emotional day for you, I suppose, for us both,” Severus’s voice cut through the din of her battle against her anxiety. “Rita Skeeter’s timing is, as always, as inconvenient as possible.”

“It’s as if she has a charm that tells her when it is best to strike at someone to get the maximum damage done.” Hermione breathed out, opening her eyes.

“I would not put it past her.” He let out a humoured snort.

Hermione drew her hand back away to push her hair back from her face. Nerves were still firing needlessly, and she was trying to tame them along with her hair. Focusing, she Occluded her mind, sliding a wall of ice between her and the anxiety she did not wish to experience. She would have to work through it slowly, letting herself settle into the fact that she was safe and there was no danger.

“You looked beautiful this evening.” Severus commented. “I found I had a pleasant time, perhaps the best dinner out I have ever had, even if the Malfoys were with us as well.”

Calm enough now to focus fully on the conversation, Hermione agreed with him. It had been a wonderful evening, she couldn’t remember when the last time she enjoyed going out was. His words brought a warm flush to her chest, helping to ease the emotions she was fighting. Blushing unintentionally at his compliment, Hermione smiled. “Thank you. I had a good time with you as well.”

Something crossed his face, his lips shifted upward into a smile. “It pleases me to hear you say that, because once the trial is over, I intend to take you out for dinner again.” 

It wasn’t what she was expecting him to say. Part of her still grappled with the surprise that not once had he made her feel uncomfortable or unwanted when she’d been so accustomed to it before. Tucking those thoughts below the ice, Hermione looked away. “You don’t have to. We could simply have dinner here.”

“I know that I do not. I would like to, unless you would rather come home afterwards.” The way he said  _ ‘home’ _ gave her the same feeling every time he said it. More warmth spiraled up her spine and then settled in her chest, wrapped around the precious word.

Thinking about the prospect of going out after the trial still gave her pause. 

_ What if it went badly, like the last one?...  _

Even with Mr. Greengrass' assurances, there was no guarantee it would be any different.

_ What if she was a mess, what if she could barely breathe?... _

S urely Severus would not want to take her out into public looking as if she had cried the whole day. And she most definitely didn’t want to go out if she was crying. “I won’t know how I am feeling until after it is over.”

His mouth shifted, his eyes flickering away for a moment thoughtfully before his head tilted in agreement. “Then I will ask you that evening if you wish to go out then or the next night.”

This brought up a thought she had not considered prior. Severus was not a social person, by his own admission, and she imagined that going out to dinner to him would be something he held in the same vein of torture as he did parties and balls. 

Adjusting her feet so that they were no longer under her, but tucked behind her, she leaned onto the arm of her chair, observing him. “Why do you want to go out at all? It doesn’t appear like something you would enjoy?”

“Because up until this evening I had not realized it was something I would _appreciate_.” His dark eyes met hers as he rested his chin on his hand. “However, now I find I would enjoy an evening out with you, only the two of us.”

A surprised hum left her throat. “I didn’t do anything special tonight.”

“No, you didn’t.” 

It didn’t make sense to her, although she had a suspicion that Severus was trying to make up for dinner’s long past, where her ex-husband made her feel so rejected. It wouldn’t be a stretch for Severus, Hermione decided, to put himself into an uncomfortable position for her comfort. He’d done it a million times already.

“Is this due to what—” Hermione puffed her cheeks out before exhaling, trying to determine how to best bring it up. “— due to what we talked about before we left for dinner?”

Severus shook his head. “Not entirely, no. Although, I will restate he was a fool to not have been proud of every moment that he had you at his side. He was an idiot to make you believe you were embarrassing in any fashion.”

“Why do I feel like you are teasing me?” She wrinkled her nose at him.

“I am not sure, do I _sound_ as if I am teasing you? Do I _look_ as if I am?” His hand flicked over his person.

Hermione could tell he was purposely keeping his face neutral to prove his point. “No.”

The curve of a smile returned to his thin lips. “Then, take my words at face value. I am no such fool, and I want you to know that I enjoyed the time we spent together.” His right eyebrow arched as he reached for her hand once more.

“Thank you.” She breathed, taking his open hand.

“Anytime, Hermione.” Severus gave her a bit of a tug, opening his other arm and beckoning her to come to sit with him in his chair.

With a smile, Hermione rose from her chair, and slid into his lap, adjusting so that her legs were over the arm of the chair and her face was resting against his shoulder. One of his arms cradled her back while the other rested over her thighs, still holding her hand. The nearness of him soothed the last few nerves standing resolutely that he might have been angry at her.

Severus pressed his lips to her forehead before speaking, his breath grazing over her skin. “Now, tell me, did you actually enjoy yourself, or was Lucius _too much_?”

A chuckle escaped her. “I have to say, it is odd to be so— _casual_ with them. Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful time, and I liked meeting them as your friends, instead of Draco’s parents, or—as we did during the war.”

A heavy sigh escaped him and Hermione rose and fell with the breath. “Ah yes, they are different people, as you and I are, from who they were then. I think it taught Lucius a great deal about what was actually important to him.”

Hermione knew what Severus meant. Money and power seemed to take a backseat to his family and his wife for Lucius. She’d heard about what they suffered under the rule of Voldemort, and while they were still involved in his schemes in plans, Hermione argued they were victims too in some ways. 

Oh, it had made her sound like a lunatic when she had gone to the defence of the people whose home she had been tortured in. But she also knew that the Malfoy Family had done all they could that time to keep them from being discovered. 

Draco had known it was Harry, and Hermione was sure that Narcissa and Lucius did as well. Yes, Bellatrix tortured her and marked her in ways that could never be removed, but they had warned the madwoman to not kill her. Even if it was under the guise of not wanting to displease the dark lord, it still likely saved her life. And that didn’t even account for what Narcissa had done for Harry in the forest. How she risked everything for her son and saved Harry’s life. Even if it was for a selfish reason, it was reason enough to prove that the Malfoys had a change of heart and colours.

“Oh, absolutely agree, that is why I did what I did to keep them from Azkaban. I noticed the change in him the most when he came to try to visit you at Hogwarts and apologized to me so profusely over what had happened in his home.” Hermione explained to Severus, talking into his chest.

Lucius Malfoy had nearly bent a knee as he thanked her and apologized for what happened. He was sincere enough that she accepted it, which shocked them both that October evening.

“Was I aware yet?” Severus hummed, his hand gently rubbing up and down her side.

“Just barely, but not for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Ah.” He accepted her words quietly. “I often wondered why you choose to fight for them, all things considered.”

It shouldn’t have surprised anyone that she gave them another chance. It was not as if it wasn’t common knowledge that she was a believer in second chances, even if they were undeserved. “I like to give people second chances, and in some cases, more than that.”

_ Merlin, she’d given Ron a lion’s share of chances to make it right... _

“As with Mr Weasley.” 

Hermione stiffened as Severus voiced her thoughts, her eyes shifting from the black buttons of his frock coat to the window blinds. “Yes, as with him.”

His hand smoothed up her back and down again. “I did not mean to bring up something to upset you.”

“It is alright. I was thinking it.” She shook her head against him, pulling his hand up to be held between hers.

“I see. I endeavour to not have to make you give me any more chances than you have.” Severus pressed a kiss to her head.

Hermione leaned back from him and shook her head. “I have only given you a second chance, and if we are being honest, it wasn’t completely your fault in the first place.”

“I take full responsibility for my actions and my insufficient consideration of many factors at that time, Hermione. I will not blame my offensive behaviour on others.” 

She could see in his eyes that there was no room for argument in his statement. Hermione understood it, Severus was, in all things, unapologetically himself. At least now, when he did not have two megalomaniacs using him like a tug toy, he had the ability to say that his actions were his own and not guided by another’s hand. Adjusting back against him, Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Soothing silence settled over them, and Hermione let herself be calmed by the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His hand settled at her spine, his fingers moving in slow circles, and she ran her thumb over his fingers as she held his other hand.

But the quiet brought more questions to Hermione’s mind, and she wanted to know more about what had transpired with Skeeter. “Did Rita say anything to you when you left her at Cambridge station?”

“Not a word, took off from me as fast as she could.” He was obviously amused as a humoured chuckle left him.

Hermione considered that perhaps some proper sense had managed to get into the woman’s head. “I wouldn’t be wise of her to have done otherwise.”

Severus smirked, his fingers wrapping around hers, and now his thumb rolled over her knuckles. “No, it would _not_ have been in her best interest.”

“What did you do to her in that hour?” She had to know, Hermione was burning with curiosity.

“I gave her a lesson in ingredient preparation,” Severus offered in a bored tone of voice.

“And that scared her so badly that she fainted?” Hermione pried.

His head leaned back from her, and she gazed up at him to see that had arched an eyebrow at her. His voice drawled in a tone not unlike his teaching voice as he answered her. “A beetle vivisection can be _daunting_ when it is put in such a way that you are next. I informed her on the differences that would occur between the common beetle and _herself_.”

“And you used the same tone that nearly drove students crying, didn’t you?” She chuckled as she asked, only imagining how unsettling it must have been.

In the very same tone that he saved for idiot children, Severus responded to her. “I have _no idea_ what tone you are speaking of.”

“Of course you don’t” Hermione rolled her eyes, pressing her forehead into his shoulder.

Another long moment of quiet befell them and Severus glided his hand under her shirt, his fingers caressing the bare skin of her side gently. 

Hermione hummed, adjusting to give him a larger expanse of skin as she turned into his chest.

He took in a deep breath, and she noticed his jaw press against her as he let out a yawn. “Could I entice you into coming to bed with me once I have showered?”

“Entice me? How would you entice me?” Hermione echoed his yawn, pulling her knees up so that her feet were on the arm of the chair.

A tingle spread over her skin as his lips brushed her ear. “I have many ways of doing so, should you give me permission.”

“And if I am much too tired physically and mentally for these ways?” Hermione slipped her arm around his neck and turned her face so that their noses touched.

Severus chuckled, before placing a soft kiss to her lips. “Then I shall accommodate that and we will do only what you desire. Even if that is only cuddling before we both inevitably fall asleep.”

“I think I can agree to that.” 

“Excellent. Allow me to get up and shower, and then I will be back.” He stated, his hands now drawn back so that she could leave his lap.

Hermione wasn’t exactly keen on getting up, he was comfortable, but she knew it would infinitely more comfortable for them to be upstairs. Stretching out like a cat on his lap, she yawned before rolling to her feet. His hand braced on her forearm, steadying her, and it made her smile.

Arms stretching above her head, Hermione took a step back to let him ascend from his chair. “I will lock up the house and be waiting for you in bed.”

Severus leaned forward and unlaced his boots. “And if you are asleep when I arrive, shall I wake you?”

“I would be infinitely miserable if you did not kiss me good night.” Hermione falsified a pout.

“Very well.” Severus shook his head. “We would not want that, I have no desire to live with an eternally unhappy Hermione.”

Hermione grinned at him and went into the kitchen to drain the last of the kettle and put the dry dishes away. She heard Severus go upstairs, and she flicked her wand, ensuring that the wards were set and doors and windows locked.

Crookshanks meowed at her feet, and Hermione saw his empty water bowl. Kneeling down, she scratched his ears, earning a loud and pleased purr from her beloved familiar. Hermione petted him for several minutes before she grabbed the bowl and filled it from the sink.

With his water filled, all was well in the world of Crookshanks and Hermione felt dismissed as he turned his back to her and leaned into the bowl, lapping at her offering.

“Goodnight Crookshanks,” Hermione offered, switching the kitchen light off at the switch.

Making her way upstairs, she could hear the water flowing from Severus’s shower. Bypassing the bathroom, she turned into their bedroom and began to change into her nightclothes. 

It was much warmer upstairs, the summer heat rising from the floor below. Several times in the night she would either cast a cooling charm over them, or Severus would cast one. He had warned her that the older house did not have the best insulation. 

Opening the window let in a warm breeze. Glancing at the bed, Hermione considered her options. She had worked her way to sleeping in her underwear and a tank top with Severus. It had been a long road from where they began, but it was much easier for her to lose clothing as the season changed. The coolness of spring was long gone as they came to the end of July. 

It was not as if Severus had not seen her completely naked, she told herself. Her body image was still skewed, even with the growth she’d experienced. She could look at herself in the mirror, totally naked and not cry as she read the affirmations to herself. 

And it was _only_ sleeping, he had already affirmed to her, over and over, that nothing would happen without her express consent. Hermione trusted his word on that.

But it was a bead of sweat on the back of her neck that made the decision for her. She was sleeping in only her underwear tonight. Casting a cooling charm on the bed, Hermione slipped under the sheet, kicking the duvet to the end of the bed. Clicking the light on her side of the bed off, she lay waiting, her back turned to Severus’s side of the bed.

It wasn’t long before the water in the bathroom cut off. Sleep was already attempting to lay claim to her, but she resisted, wanting to wait for him. That didn’t stop her from resting her eyes for just a moment.

Severus's arms awoke Hermione by slipping around her, one arm under her head and the other over her side. He drew her to him, her back pressed against his chest. 

“Hermione,” Severus whispered in the darkness.

She turned her head toward him, a sleepy smile crossing her lips. “Severus.”

Lips pressed against her forehead, between her eyes. “A goodnight kiss was requested so that you can sleep well.”

Wordlessly, she agreed, tilting her chin so that she could press her lips to his. Severus kissed her back firmly, his arms tightening around her as if he was afraid that she was going to go somewhere. After a moment, he leaned back and Hermione rolled her head back to her pillow.

His hand ghosted over her skin before resting on the mattress next to her. “I notice you adjusted your sleep wardrobe once more. Are you comfortable?”

“It is much too hot to wear a shirt.” Hermione yawned, thankful that the cooling charm did not make cuddling with him uncomfortable, at least for now.

A kiss graced her shoulder. “I agree.”

“Goodnight. I love you.” Hermione wrapped her hand around his.

Severus adjusted behind her, one of his feet crossing over her ankle. “I love you too, sleep well.” 

If he said anything else, it was lost to her as she sank into slumber.

* * *

Hermione felt like her head was spinning by the middle of the next day. Mr Greengrass had sent the finalized forms for the trial, along with all evidence being provided by them and the defence for her to go over and refresh her memory. It wasn’t if she needed her memory refreshed, reading over and over again the different accounts of how she had been nearly killed by her ex-husband.

Going over it now was much different than before, when she had secluded herself in her room at Hogwarts. Now, instead of trying to drive herself numb to the memory and being unfeeling, she was doing as she had been advised by Dr Shade and let the feelings come naturally and dealing with them as they came.

It helped that Severus was there in the house with her. He had started clearing out the second room and when she had offered to help, he told her that she needed to focus on tomorrow and let him shuffle through the room where only he knew what was trash and what was salvageable.

She couldn’t argue with him, she wouldn’t have the first idea what to do with the contents of the room. Hermione also felt like maybe it was his way of coping with the impending date. Unlike before, when he had told her that he would not come with her and then showed up the last minute, Severus had agreed immediately to be a witness. Even though it was going to be in one of the bigger courtrooms, he told her that he would be there.

Maybe that was why she wasn’t afraid. 

Her heart hurt over reliving and revisiting the memory of the second-worst day of her life, but she wasn’t scared of doing this. In fact, Hermione was kind of eager to get over with. This was the final page of this chapter. Once it closed, once it was over, she would never have to see Ron again. He would no longer be a dark shadow over her life, and he would not put a strain on her relationship with Severus. Once this was over, there were only the vampires to deal with, Ron would be an overcome obstacle of her past. Something that she learned from, something that she would never let happen again, but something she didn’t have to worry about.

Even by dinner, Hermione wasn’t sure she was 100% prepared though. She attempted anticipating what would be asked of her, how it could be turned against her as the previous judge she had dealt with had done to her. Hermione was more afraid of being treated as she had during their divorce hearing than she was of seeing Ron. She was safe from that, not only because he was under arrest, but also because Severus would be there. 

Severus urged her into bed early, drawing her into his arms in the nearly full moon's light. She lay there, twitching and shifting, unable to settle either her mind or her body.

“Hermione, I know that mind of yours is going fast right now, but you need rest or you will not be as effective a speaker as you hope to be.” Severus coaxed, his fingers running through her hair.

Hermione twitched anxiously. “I know, I am so worried something is going to go wrong.”

“What is the _worst_ , the absolute worse you can imagine happening tomorrow?” Severus breathed out.

She rubbed her forehead. “They dismiss it, they call me a liar, they tell me that I wanted to be thrown off the tower, or worse, that it never happened.”

“Do you believe that is going to happen? _Truly_?” Severus sounded as if he didn’t believe her.

It wasn’t that she believed it would happen, it was that her mind was telling her it was a possibility. Exhaling, she shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m only worried.”

“I understand that, reasonably so.” Severus agreed, placing his head against hers. “What is the _best_ that can happen tomorrow?”

“They realize he is guilty, and he can never touch me again.” She blurted out, knowing the answer automatically.

His arms tightened slightly around her, and Severus growled his words out, telling the universe. “He already will never touch you again, _as long as I draw breath_.”

“I know,” Hermione said, her hand seeking his hand. His let his hold on her relax, and she intertwined her fingers with his.

Severus continued. “So, he is guilty and then what?”

“They put him in Azkaban,” Hermione offered, knowing that he either needed to be there, or St. Mungo's getting treated for his addictions. 

She felt safer with him in the magical prison, but if the courts decided he was better served being rehabilitated, she would support it. As long as those who gave the orders were willing to be held responsible if it went sideways.

“So, looking at this logically, which of these two potential realities will happen?” Severus squeezed her hand.

It was easy to see where he was leading her in this conversation, and she sighed. “Him going to Azkaban.” 

He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Then I would recommend you relax, Occlude your mind, and try to sleep.”

Letting his hand go, Hermione turned his arms, searching his eyes in the darkness. “You will be there, the whole time?”

“ _The entire time_.” She felt his hand press against her cheek as he spoke. “No matter what, I will walk into that courtroom with you and walk out of it with you. You will be safe and after tomorrow, you will never have to see Mr Weasley again. I promise you that.”

It eased the tension in her chest if only a little bit. Hermione placed her hand on his chest, the warmth of his skin under her palm. “Okay. Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Does it involve getting out of this bed?” His words were wary.

“No, not at all.” Hermione offered, having witnessed his expression in the dark and knowing it meant he was comfortable with no desire to get out of bed.

Severus leaned his forehead against hers. “Then yes, you may.”

“Can guide me through Occluding again, like you did when we were at Hogwarts, and I was learning.” She asked him quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

There was confusion in his face. “You know how to do it, Hermione. I know you have not forgotten.”

“I just want to hear your voice guiding me through it.” She couldn’t think of any other way to describe to him what she needed. She needed him to be there with her, as she pushed back the thoughts and did her best to settle.

“Of course.” Severus answered her, adjusting around her. “Take a deep breath in through your nose and then let it leave through your mouth.”

* * *

“Are you ready?” Severus asked her, standing in front of the fireplace in his teaching robes.

Hermione took in a deep breath, twisting her hands in front of her. All the work she had done in the past weeks was the lead up to this day. 

_ I can do this. Merely this one day, one day and I can let this part of my life close… _ She coached herself before answering him. 

“Yes, I have everything.” Fixing her gray formal robes, the ones that made her feel like she could take on the world, she grabbed a handful of floopowder. Hermione stepped into the fireplace with the powder in her hand and Severus stepped into it next to her. 

His long fingers sought her free hand, and she grasped them as she cast the powder down with the address, sending them both through green fire to the Ministry of Magic.

The atrium was full, both with those heading to work and those here for the trial. Severus tucked her hand around his arm as he escorted her through the crowd. Onlookers gave them a wide berth and it was easy to see why. Severus had the look on his face that had warned generations of students to get out of his way. Hermione moved with him, nodding at Romilda who waved as her photographer took a photo of them. 

They had to take an elevator down, and neither of them said a word. Hermione wasn’t certain she could, with the butterflies of nerves fluttering in her chest at such a rate she thought that she might explode.

It seemed to her that Severus knew where he was going, and she kept in step with him, even with his long determined strides. She was taking two steps for his every one, but she had no desire to lag behind. 

A massive iron door stood before them, tall enough that a dragon could have easily entered and cleared the door with its wings tucked. It was imposing and it radiated a certain menace that Hermione could not put into words. This was the entrance to the lower courts. Hermione had never been here, her job at the Ministry had never placed her in a position where she had to be party to a trial such as this.

Severus stopped, turning to her. His complexion was paler than normal. Hermione realized that these were the rooms that he had avoided coming to in the first place. The rooms that had made him deny being her witness the first time she had to deal wit the legislative arm of the Ministry for her divorce.

“No matter what, I am here. We are walking in _together_ , and we walk out _together_.” Severus breathed out. 

Perhaps, to the rest of the world, he may have looked calm and collected. Time and experience and even just the intimacy of knowing a person better had allowed her to know Severus far better than she'd been able to imagine before. She could see the subtle tells hidden behind his dour public scowl that he was nervous—just as she was. It may have been for different reasons, but the realisation that he, too, was nervous made her feel better about her own anxiety.

“In together and out together.” She repeated, leaning up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips, onlookers be damned.

Instead of recoiling, or admonishing her for making such a bold display of public affection, Severus kissed her back. 

It was a quick kiss, but it stilled the quaking pulse in her chest. Hermione held his eyes, and she felt the brush of his mind over hers.

_ You are safe, he will never touch you again. I will be here every step… _ His presence and voice seeped into her mind, pushing back against her nerves.

Hermione smiled at him. 

_ Severus, I promise I will not leave you in these rooms either. You are safe too, no one is going to take you away from me… _

_ Damn your perception, witch… I am quite fine… _ Severus narrowed his eyes slightly.

_ It is not noticeable, I know only because I know you... _ Hermione pressed another kiss to his lips, smiling softly as he broke their gaze and connection.

“Shall we?” He breathed out, his fingers wrapping around hers.

Hermione nodded, wordlessly agreeing with him.

They turned toward the doors and Hermione noticed there were far more people waiting behind them than there had been when they had arrived. The huge iron doors open, showing a circular room with benches all the way around. It was massive and constructed entirely of stone. From the amount of chairs, she figured there could easily be a thousand people in there with room still for more. It had that same menacing feeling, oppressive and heavy like an iron chain.

Mr Greengrass was at a table on the ground floor, two plush seats sitting behind it. He waved them down, and Hermione led Severus into the room and down the stairs. She could feel how tight his grip was on her hand, not painful, but he wasn’t letting go easily either.

“Good Morning, Miss Granger.” Mr Greengrass chimed cheerily. “Mr Snape, I am pleased to see you. You may sit with the other witnesses over there where you see Mr and Mrs Potter and the senior Mr Weasley.”

Hermione glanced to where her friends were seated. Even Viktor and Draco were already here, perched on the row behind the Potters. 

“Just a moment, Mr Greengrass.” Hermione offered.

The plump man nodded, glancing down at a form. “Of course, we have time still, they have not even brought the defendant in yet.”

Hermione went with Severus over to where the witnesses were, stopping at the break in the stone wall where Severus would have to depart to go sit with them. 

“I love you Severus,” she breathed out.

He glanced from where he was going to be sitting to her eyes. “I love you too, Hermione. I will be right here.”

“I know.” She smiled and let his hand go.

Hermione waved to Ginny, who was beaming like a hyena at having heard their exchange. Hermione watched as he went to take a seat next to Draco and then returned to her barrister. “What do I need to do?”

“Now, we wait for them to bring Mr Weasley.” He said as he neatly piled and sorted evidence parchment in front of him. “I did request comfortable seating for us both, as I have no idea how long this will take today.”

Hermione was grateful to not have to sit in the chair that took up the centre of the room. She had noticed it when she came in but did not want to draw attention to it for Severus’s sake. It was a cage, man-sized with a stool in it. It reminded her of something you would see in a medieval dungeon. There was no wonder that Severus was so nervous to be in this room. “Thank you for your consideration.” 

“Of course. Now, relax, we have had no last-minute changes on us this time.”

Hermione did as her barrister requested, taking a seat as she waited for them to bring in Ron so that they could get this over with.


	85. The Case of The Ministry of Magic Vs Ronald Weasley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Severus's point of view.
> 
> I know this took a long time to get out, but I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> Huge shout out to CorvusDraconis (send them all your love) for helping me to wrangle this into something far better than it was alone and for catching all my dyslexic transpositions.

Sleep had been an evasive bed partner the night before. Severus, tried as he might, could not get his mind to settle. While he had managed to coach Hermione into sleep with Occluding, the same did not work for him. Too much weighed on his mind in the night. Worries about what could come from the upcoming trial, what would come from the Vow that Hermione had gained from Rita, and even issues about stepping into this particular room plagued and gnawed at him. 

Severus closed his hands into tight fists on his lap, trying to will away the clamminess in his hands. He had not hesitated to agree to be here for Hermione, there was no way he was going to leave her to go through a circus like that again, but he had not anticipated how much being here would affect him. Even though he was not the one on the stool in that metal cage, he irrationally felt as if that would change at any moment. Every time the door opened, every noise precisely above the din of speakers drew his attention. Years of honing his reactions were the only thing that he knew prevented his nerves from being given away by his facial expressions.

Even with all his precise and mindful planning for this moment, Severus felt as if he were sitting upon a razor’s edge. It was an old, familiar yet unwanted sensation. Severus breathed in evenly, using that as a moderator for his control, as he had so many times in the past. This court case was out of his control, he knew it, which meant he had to focus on the things he could control. At that moment, it was his breathing and keeping a mindful eye on the room, so that if anyone made any move against Hermione, he would know it.

A door to the right of the room opened and two Aurors, Dean Thomas and another whom Severus had not encountered before, marched in with Ronald Weasley striding between them. It was not difficult to recognize that without the protection of the tattoo that Azkaban had taken a toll on Weasley. Even in the few days since Severus had glimpsed him in his cell, there was a marked difference. He was gaunter in the face, but that could have also been from the expression of grim finality the man seemed to wear. The horrendous freckles of the ginger man stook out far more starkly against pale skin that did not get to see much sun in the cells of the prison.

Briefly, Severus was taken back into his mind when he was the one who had been dragged into this room before the Wizengamot. He too knew that his death was at hand, that there was no saving grace for him, or what he had done. It was a death march before a show of spectators baying for his blood in the fall of the Dark Lord. A sense of sickness crept up Severus’s throat as the memory grew stronger, and he took in a deep breath, shifting his focus from that thought to what was important. He wasn’t here for any other purpose than to support Hermione and tell the court what he had witnessed as Weasley tried to kill her. While this room was one of the many that sat firmly fixed in his nightmares, he did not wish for it to haunt her as it haunted him. She was what was important at this moment, and anything beyond that was simply unneeded distractions.

His eyes passed over to where Hermione sat next to Kendrick Greengrass. Her shoulders were squared, her chin up and to the rest of the world, she looked as if she was unfazed by her ex-husband entering the room. But Severus noticed her hands in her lap, how her thumb twisted over her fingers. Being in the same room with him still made her nervous, understandably so, Severus was not keen for her to be in the room with the man who tried to murder her. He felt a sense of pride she could conceal that fear, that she had come this far. It warmed his chest, chasing some ill feeling tightness away.

Hermione must have sensed his eyes on her, her face turning toward him. He could discern, perhaps because he had come to know her so well, that there was worry in her eyes, and that the corners of her lips showcased that same emotion. Severus inclined his head toward her, telling her wordlessly so many things that he hoped came through. He wanted her to know that he was there for her and that she was safe. That she had no reason to worry about the man she was facing today. Her response was a soft knowing smile and a return of his nod before she faced back to the courtroom.

The Judge came out from a door behind the bench and the conversation in the courtroom stilled. On ceremony, the room stood, Severus with them. 

“Presenting the honourable Judge Heath Merriweather,” Dean Thomas broke the silence as the Judge took his seat. This was a man that Severus had never seen before, he was tall with a squared chin obscured by a neat beard of curly black hair that contrasted the traditional white wig of office. His skin was darker than Auror Thomas’s, nearly the colour of cloves, and his eyes showed keen perception and intelligence. Severus wondered what sort of judge Merriweather would turn out to be. Severus watched as the man took in the room before gesturing with his hand. “Please take your seats.”

The rustle of clothing as the people did as they were asked filled the room and Severus crossed his arms, easing away the tingle in his hands. Judge Merriweather looked down at Weasley, before glancing over toward Hermione.

“The case brought before me today is Attempted Homocide of the first degree by Mr Ronald Bilius Weasley against Ms Hermione Jean Granger, who at the time was his lawful wife and held the last name Granger-Weasley. Will those two present and their representation rise.”

The poor fool assigned to defending Weasley was a spindly tiny man who rose to his feet at this request. He was nothing like Harkness, who exuded power. He rather had the presence of a secretary who had drawn the short straw and was there because there was no other choice. 

The wand oath was the same as it had been before and was the oath that each of the witnesses would have to give when it was their time to speak. Severus glanced to his right, noting Draco had Viktor’s hand in his. The Bulgarian seemed even tenser externally than Severus felt on the inside. Mrs Potter was sitting between Harry and her father Arthur, who had his hand around her back supporting her. Severus could not imagine these stone benches were comfortable for a pregnant woman to set on for any measure of time. Ginny Weasley was just on the edge of being visibly pregnant, where if Severus didn’t know for a fact, it was her state he would have assumed she had merely gained weight in her midsection.

His attention was drawn back to the proceedings as Judge Merriweather began to read from the forms in front of him.

“This is a criminal case, brought forth by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Head Auror Harry Potter specifically.” The Judge’s eyes flicked toward them and Severus watched as they settled on Potter before going back to his docket. “As such, Mr Weasley will remain restrained for the entirety of the session. Should you attempt to escape, or cause harm to anyone in this courtroom, the Aurors will hex you and you will suffer greatly. Do you understand me, Mr Weasley.”

Weasley did not appear phased. He shrugged in his chains and answered with an insolent tone that caused Severus to want to throttle him.“Yeah, I got it.”

The face that Merriweather formed belied he was just as unimpressed with the man’s behaviour. Shuffling parchment, he gazed down at him intensely. “Before we begin, how do you plead against the charges brought against you.”

Ronald shook his head and for a moment, Severus considered the idiot was going to try to deny the charges.

“This is a whole bloody farce. A circus for the public to get vindication.” Weasley groused as he gestured toward the crowded room. 

A quiet murmuring pervaded the room and the thin defense lawyer leaned forward across his table. Severus could not see his face, but he assumed it was painted in mortification at his ‘client’ behaving in such a fashion.

“Mr Weasley, please attempt to conduct yourself with some decorum.” The defense lawyer spoke up.

The redheaded man turned on the stool, facing away from the Judge now to address the man who was supposed to be there to help save his life. “No, we all know it, so let’s just dispense with the bullshit. I did it. I tried to kill her. I hit her until she was nearly unconscious, and I threw her from the astronomy tower at Hogwarts. My mother bribed Cormac to let me loose, and I left with the intention of killing her. It was premeditated.”

The lawyer’s head jerked as he exclaimed. “Mr Weasley!”

“You cannot seriously be trying to defend me,” Ronald said with a sigh, his hands in tight fists.

Severus could see there was rage in his expression, not like the rage before when this event had happened, not that Severus could recall much outside of his own blind fury. Ronald Weasley was furious that someone was trying to defend him and deflate his own statements.

As if proving Severus’s point, the defendant faced the crowd. “Everyone knows I did it. You all know that I tried to kill my wife in cold blood.”

The echo of a gavel on the bench caused Severus jerk his head away from Weasley's spectacle and to the Judge.

“Order! Mr Weasley, you will address me and the courts, not those here to witness this proceeding. This is a courtroom, not a _circus_.” Merriweather’s face skewed with disgust as Weasley turned around to face him.

The murmuring had been rising, but the Judge scanned out to the stone seats and silence returned to the spectators. Glancing around, Severus could identify Romilda and Dennis Crevey tucked in the press section, both taking furious notes. No doubt this would be all over both of the papers in the morning, unless the Prophet beat Witch Weekly to the punch with an evening edition.

Weasley did not seem to understand that he was treading on thin ice as he continued to speak. “Fine. You know I did it, your honour. So stop wasting your time and just sentence me.” 

“Mr Weasley—” Judge Merriweather sighed, rubbing his forehead. “—I have taken your statement into consideration, can we proceed?”

The youngest male Weasley slouched on the stool, throwing his hands up in the air as far as he could with his chained wrists with exasperation. “Why bother? We all know where this is going to go. Just sentence me to the kiss already, so I can go back to my cell and count down the days until this nightmare is over.”

Audible gasps echoed in the room.

Severus furrowed his brows, considering what the boy had just said. 

_ Ronald Weasley  **wants** the dementor’s kiss?...  _ Severus considered it only marginally off for the man. When Severus had spent his brief stint in Azkaban, he knew there were many who preferred the aspect of the kiss to living in that hell for the rest of their lives.

“You want the Dementor’s kiss?” The Judge asked disbelievingly, echoing Severus’s thoughts.

“Yes, I want to get the kiss. I deserve it.” Weasley turned and looked back at Hermione. 

Severus’s hand was on his wand out of habit. He felt his blood boil as he watched the man address her. 

“I have done things that are unforgivable. At this point, being stripped of my soul seems like a  _ starting point _ for what I deserve. I don’t want to live on knowing what I have done and knowing there is no way I can ever fix it. I want the Kiss.”

Severus wondered what game Weasley was playing—what he sought to get from doing this. 

_ Was it a game of sympathy?  _

_ Did Weasley presume that if he acted as if he were repentant he would get a gentler sentence to balance out his request? _

Severus wasn’t sure if the man was capable of that type of thought, but his mind was pulled from that line of thinking by Hermione’s reaction.

“NO!” she shouted determinedly, standing from her seat. The chair uttered a loud screech, and she stood behind the table with her hands in fists clenched at her side. 

Severus could see the waves of anger radiating off of her as if they were an actual manifestation in the physical realm. Something about what he had said had triggered this in her. 

_Was it his plan all along?_

Her declaration had startled the whole room as many people jerked and squeaked at how violently she had risen. Even Mr Greengrass seemed shocked. “Miss Granger?”

Hermione shook her head at her barrister, not giving in to his subtle attempt at calming her. Granger was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, perhaps more so that when she was focused and thoughtful. Severus knew better than anyone, she was capable of anything. She did in fact set him on fire at age 12.

This was a drastic switch from her nervous twisting only moments ago. Replaying Weasley’s words over, he tried to understand what had elicited this response from her as she addressed the Judge.

“Your honour, I request to address the defendant’s statement and request, as the victim in question and since he has addressed me.”

“I—” The judge seemed to consider it. His eyes passed between Weasley and Hermione, who was vibrating where she stood. With a nod of his head to Dean Thomas, obviously to make sure the man did not do anything to Hermione in his court, he responded to Hermione. “Proceed.”

The whole courtroom was now focused on Hermione as she moved from around the table she’d been sitting at. A pin would have sounded like thunder in the stone room as Hermione made her way toward the cage and stool holding Weasley. She lifted a finger toward the restrained man and Severus could see her hands were shaking. With fear or anger, he wasn’t sure.

“Ronald Weasley, you coward! You do not get to take the easy way out!” She half-growled half-shouted, her brown hair shaking with her hand.

“The easy way Hermione?” he yelled back, his hands gesturing toward her against his chains. “What about this has been easy?”

Hermione stomped her foot and Severus knew at that moment that she was furious. That was something that he had come to learn was a sign of her attempting to disperse her anger, so she could think clearly. 

“You want the kiss so you don’t have to **_remember_ ** ! So you don’t have to sit with **_what you have done_ ** !” His witch hissed, stopping just out of arms reach of the cage where Weasley was held. 

“No! You don’t get to forget! I can’t forget it!” Hermione’s hands came up to her chest in tight balls and her voice strained with angry tears to the point that Severus wanted to rush to her side. “I wake up every morning with an empty space under my heart where our son lived and moved before you  _ killed _ him. I have to wear glasses because you damaged my eye so badly that magic cannot repair it.” 

Emphatically, she jerked off the glasses perched on her nose, shaking them at Weasley accusingly. “I will not allow you to get to relieve yourself of the memories of what you did. I will not suffer while you forget.”

Weasley had the gall to laugh in her face. “ _ Allow _ , how are you not going to allow it, Hermione?”

It was quiet for a moment, and to Severus it appeared like the calm before a storm. The room was vibrating, like an auditorium just before the first note of an orchestration. He could not see her face, but her shoulders were rising and falling heavily. Severus was not sure if this was the onset of a panic attack, or if she was trying to control her rage in the face of his laughter.

It seemed like eons between his question and her words, even though it was but a few tense seconds. Her voice dripped with determination dressed in the trappings of anger and power. 

“You will live your full natural life, no matter what I have to do. You will remember daily what you did to me. If you get sentenced to the kiss here, I will fight it with every breath in my body. If you get a magical disease that addles your mind, I will find a cure if it is the last thing that I do.”

The room echoed with the low register of her voice, almost like a growl, filling it. “I will do everything in my power to make sure that you wake up daily mentally sound and have to remember because  _ I DO NOT GET TO FORGET _ !”

Weasley seemed uncomfortable, squirming in on the stool under the brunt of her anger. Severus had to balance the pride he felt for Hermione in facing up against Weasley so soundly and the concern for what she was actually saying. Hermione had declared until his last breath that she would be sure that he lived and was healthy enough to remember. Severus had hoped once this trial was over, that Weasley would never darken their days again, but she meant what she said. Severus had zero doubt Hermione could and would make sure that the man lived in the hell of his making for the rest of his days.

“Why are you so stubborn?” Weasley groaned like an overgrown manchild. “First you and your  _ fiance _ want me dead, and I am giving you that and now you want me to be alive?” Weasley’s next exhale filled with a bubble of veiled rage. “Why, so I can see you with him and know that I almost destroyed you and ruined another good thing in my life?”

It took Severus longer than it should have for him to realize that Weasley was referring to him as her fiance. Another reason for Severus to regret tormenting the man in his cell with the dangling of the fact that he was better for and too Hermione than Ron had ever been. The ginger twit was making assumptions through those statements and trying to turn them back on to Hermione to elicit a response. To get her to confirm or deny the title he had assigned to Severus. To what end was not apparent, but Severus could see that Weasley was trying to refocus the anger Hermione away from him.

To his increasing pride, Hermione did not rise to the bait about them as she decried his statements. “I don’t want you  _ dead _ ! I don’t want you to see me ever again either. I don’t care where you are alive; be it Azkaban, St. Mungos, or in a hut with your deranged mother in the middle of a goddamn rainforest, but you will be alive and you will remember daily that you tried to kill me and that you did kill Alexander.”

Weasley looked baffled. “Who the hell is Alexander?” 

Severus felt as if he had been punched in the gut and Hermione jerked as if she felt that same pain. Ronald Weasley did not even know the name of the child he had killed. Of the son that he had snuffed the life from before he had even begun. Even though she had it on a headstone in their garden where they lived, even though she had undoubtedly told him before, it was such an insignificant detail to the idiot that in this moment he truly had no idea who Hermione was referring to. An entirely new type of anger simmered up in Severus, it tingled along his skin, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to let the litany of curses he had in mind for Weasley spill forth.

“My son,” Hermione hissed out. “My son’s name was Alexander.”

The pain in her words struck Severus between the ribs, awakening a desire to take action and a vault of protectiveness for Hermione. The foul beast of a man did not even know the name of his child. It rattled around in Severus’s head like the tail of a rattlesnake as his chest tightened. 

Severus halfway to his feet when he felt a hand firmly pressed on his shoulder, driving him to sit on the stone bench.

Glancing over, Draco’s pale eyes were filled with a wave of similar anger, but he was shaking his head ‘no’ as removed his hand from Severus’s shoulder. 

“You’ll make it worse, Severus,” Draco breathed through gritted teeth as he had a similar hand on his fiancee’s shoulder. Krum’s hands were in massive fists around the edge of the stone bench.

Severus wanted to argue with his godson, but was drawn back to the scene unfolding in the courtroom as the Judge spoke up. “I believe that that is enough, Miss Granger.”

Hermione turned toward the bench, her hands clasped together before her as if she were beseeching Judge Merriweather. “Your honour, with all the deepest respect, do not give him what he wishes,” Hermione pleaded.

The judge gestured his head toward the seat where Mr Greengrass was still sitting. “Miss Granger, please take a seat.”

Hermione unclasped her hands, putting them palms up expectantly as if she were waiting for him to acknowledge what she had asked. “Your honour, do not let him take the easy way out.”

Firmly, the Judge responded to Hermione, tilting his head at her. “Miss Granger, I understand you are upset and I have granted your leniency in that. Please take a seat so that we can proceed.”

Severus watched as it deflated her. Her shoulders dropped, her hands fell at her sides, and she nodded her head.

“Yes, Your Honour,” Hermione relented, turning and moving back to her seat. He could see her face now and her eyes were red rimmed with unshed tears and her face blotchy with anger and sadness. Severus’s eyes followed her the whole way until she was in the seat. His hand was still around his wand, his knuckles white as he resisted the urge to hex Weasley for his idiocy and insolence and for putting the expression that was on her face there.

The gavel banged again and the Judge stood up. “In respect to what has just transpired, I will be taking a 15-minute recess with the representation of the defense and the victim. Aurors, please secure the defendant in the holding room until I return.”

Auror Thomas and the other moved to relocate Weasley into the door to the right. The air in the room was heavy — weighted with questions everyone seemed to have about what had just happened. 

When the judge left the room, Draco nudged him. “Go to her now.”

Severus wanted to tell Draco that he didn’t need his suggestion to go to Hermione, but he was already on his feet, moving toward her seat. His primary focus was on ensuring that she was okay. He stepped down the stairs to the main floor of the courtroom. The Auror guarding the floor moved to stop him.

Before he could put together the words on how poor a choice the younger man had made, Potter’s voice cut between them. “Oi, Lashey, let him go make sure she is alright. He’s her significant other.”

The young man scanned over him and then back to his superior Potter before stepping aside. Severus did not pay any mind to his bumbling apologies, his mind was on one track. He did not pay attention to the hush in the room as everyone watched them, because Severus did not care. The rest of the world could burn to ash around them and take their opinions with them to hell at this moment.

Hermione stood and slid her arms around him. She was tense, he could feel it in the way she held him, and he wound his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. Severus felt her fingers dig into his coat as she gripped him like she did not wish for him to let her go. Severus held her tightly, only releasing his hold when she drew back from him.

Her face was red, her eyes wet with the tears she let loose upon his frock coat. She wiped her eyes with her fingers, shaking her head. “I’m foolish, I know. I should have just let the judge go on, but I can’t let him get the Kiss, Severus. I know you have to think I am such a fool.” Her words came out on shaky breaths.

Withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket, as he had come prepared for the fact that she might cry today, he gave it to her. He placed it in her hand and exhaled deeply. “No, you are not. I cannot argue with your stance, it is reasonable, and while I scarcely believe it myself, I agree with it.”

He watched as she pressed the cloth to the corner of her eyes before she looked up at him baffled. “You are not disappointed in my outburst?”

“Hardly surprised by you at this point, Hermione.” Severus mused, trying in some way to cheer her up. “In fact, I am rather proud that you had the strength to yell back at him.”

Hermione’s lips quirked up at the edges as she wiped her face. “Having a cage between us helped.”

“I can imagine it did.” Severus glanced over toward the cage in question, still uneasy at the proximity of it to himself, but that was overrun by his desire to be there for her in her time of need.

“And knowing that you were there just behind me if he did manage to get loose.” Her tone was secretive as one of her hands reached for his.

Severus took her hand in his. “He would have never made it to you. There are more than enough wands aside from my own to prevent that.”

Hermione wiped her face and then tried to offer him back the kerchief. With his free hand, he refused it, knowing she would need it later. After she tucked it into the front pocket of her grey dress robes, she leaned into his, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “This was not my best or worst-case scenario.”

“No, but it is not something you cannot adapt to.” He offered, tucking his arm around her. He moved his hand in circles over her back in an attempt to soothe her tension.

“What do you think will happen now.” Hermione muffled against his frock coat.

His eyes moved to the bench where the judge had vacated with the defence barrister and Mr Greengrass. Honestly, he had no idea how these two outbursts would affect their case. Not only was he not well versed in court proceedings aside from his own, but he was also unsure of how this particular judge would react to them. “No idea, but I would advise you to stay in your seat.”

An amused snort left her, and she glanced up at him. “Heh, yes, you are correct.”

“I often am.” He said expertly, raising an eyebrow as he looked her over. “Are you alright?”

Her face contorted as her eyes closed. “No. I don’t think I am, but I will be once this is settled as long as they don’t sentence him to the Kiss.” She paused, looking grim. “ _Anything_ but that.”

The quiet desperation in her voice told him untold volumes of how she felt at that moment. Not only could he see it on her face, but it rang in her words. “Can I do anything to ease you at this moment?”

“No, you’ve—” She fixed him with her dark honey eyes. “You’ve done so much. I can’t believe him, you know.”

Severus snorted, glancing toward the door of the holding room before reclaiming her gaze. “Mr Weasley has proven time and again that he is a fool, this attempt to get the Kiss should not be surprising.”

“No, not that. He didn’t—” Her hand tightened around his, and she tilted her head away, her face sinking into sorrow “He didn’t remember his name.”

The pain he felt before was raw again and Severus leaned his forehead down to hers. “No, he did not.”

“But you do,” she whispered solemnly, her voice laden with her sadness.

Severus paused for a moment, swallowing back emotion he had no desire to showcase to the world that was undoubtedly watching like ravenous wolves. “Of course, I do.”

“And you weren’t his father, and Ron was, but you remember his name.” The way she said it was as if she were trying to make heads or tails of an illogical statement. 

He too shared the bafflement that Weasley could have been that obtuse. “Mr Weasley has never been the type to have his priorities straight.”

“I wish it would have been you,” Hermione breathed out.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “As do I.”

“Thank you, Severus.” She squeezed his hand.

A quiet chuckle from someone else realigned him to the fact that this was all before an audience and that they were conversationally slipping into matters he believed belonged in the more private arena of their life. 

“You are welcome. However, it appears there is an abundance of ears and eyes on us at this moment, and while I do not care a bit what they think, perhaps we should discuss this later, so it doesn’t end up in the evening Prophet.” He lifted his eyebrow questioningly at her, before shifting his glance to the room of people who were behind them. Many of them seemed to be trying to act as if they were not paying attention, but there were some that were actively staring at the two of them.

Hermione followed his gaze and then nodded, moving to step back. “Oh, yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be, they can take their opinions and thoughts on us and go to hell. My sole purpose in being in this courtroom is to support you, and that is precisely what I am doing.” Severus said, letting her go as she moved back. He still held her hand in his hand.

“Severus, the judge is returning.” Arthur’s voice rose, filling the quiet. Severus gave Arthur a quick nod before turning his gaze back to Hermione. “I have to return.”

Hermione gave him a displeased groan before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Go. I know.”

Severus let her hand go. He turned and moved past the Auror who had tried to stop him the first time without a second glance. Taking the six steps up to the second row of seats, he sat down next to Draco.

“Is she alright Severus?” Viktor asked him quietly.

Severus exhaled and nodded. “As well as she can be Mr Krum. Once this is over, I suspect she will feel somewhat better.”

The brawny man nodded. “I zink, I vill feel better knowing zat he cannot make her cry again.”

The holding room door opened and the Aurors returned with Weasley in tow. Severus stared at him and their eyes met. He narrowed his eyes at the man, funnelling his rage into his expression until Weasley could no longer bear it and looked away.

“Presenting, the honourable Judge Heath Merriweather, all rise.” Auror Thomas announced again, and they repeated the process until the Judge was in his seat and the barristers were back with their clients.

Judge Merriweather’s lips were in a thin line, his eyes flickering between Hermione and Weasley. “I know this an emotionally charged case, for both the victim and the defendant. I must remind those here, however, that the law is _not_ based on emotions, but grounded in fact and reason. It is my duty, as an executor of the letter of the law, to weigh those facts and determine a sentence that meets the crime. The crime in question is the attempted murder of Ms Granger by Mr Weasley. I ask that all statements and facts henceforth are reliant on _that crime_ , and not any others in the storied past of these two persons.”

A murmur started in the audience. 

The Judge cleared his throat in a way that suggested he was not finished. “However, in light of the defendant admitting guilt under oath, we will work to prevent further distress to the parties involved and move toward sentencing. I have spoken with representation from both parties about this course of action, and they have come to a consensus on proceeding in this fashion. Miss Granger, do you have any objections to proceeding in this fashion since guilt has been admitted.”

Severus glanced toward Hermione, noticing that her head was leaned in close as Mr Greengrass was speaking into her ear. The profile of her face was clear to him and her nose wrinkled as the man whispered to her. Obviously, something was not to her liking.

Hermione turned her attention to the judge and shook her head. “I do not your Honour.”

A shadow of relief seemed to cross over Merriweather’s face as he nodded in acceptance of her statement. Shifting at the bar, the man now looked at Weasley. 

“Mister Weasley, do you have any objections to proceeding in this fashion, as you have admitted your premeditated murder of your at the time wife?”

“Just get on with it.”

Weasley’s response did not surprise Severus. 

The Wizengamot Wizard twisted his lips in distaste at the response and then looked down at the parchment in front of him. “Very well. Allow me a moment to review the documentation before me once more before I finalize my decision. You may converse among yourself.”

Severus’s attention was drawn to the man who was sitting before him. Arthur Weasley turned and tucked his head on his daughter’s shoulder. Severus watched as Ginerva Weasley wrapped her arm around her father. Severus could barely hear their whispered conversation.

“It’s not your _fault_ dad.”

The patriarch of the Weasley Clan uttered a pained sound before answering her. “I failed them, the three of them. If I had only looked into it more. If I’d been a better father, none of this would have ever happened.”

“Dad, you can’t blame yourself.” She attempted to assuage the older man's apparent guilt.

Severus felt uncomfortable listening to the personal exchange, and he tried to ignore the rest of the exchange. 

However, Viktor must have also been paying attention, as he leaned forward and tapped the older redhead on the shoulder. 

When Arthur turned his head around, Viktor spoke in a low rumble far louder than the whispers they had been using. “Mr Veasley, Ginny is right. Zhis is not ze product of poor parenting, I’ve encountered terrible parenting. He _chose_ his sins and vices and did not ask for help. You’ve been a good father and you cannot let zhis make you zink you are not.”

Arthur sighed and nodded his head at the man. “Thank you for trying to comfort me, but my conscience tells me _otherwise_.”

It wasn’t his place to say anything in this. Severus knew this and yet, he desired to tell Arthur that he was not at fault for the brutality that his son had inflicted on Hermione. Comfort was not something that he wanted to offer the man, instead, he wanted to ensure that Arthur Weasley did not bear the weight of sins that were not his. That weight and guilt belonged to the one man in the room who did not appear experiencing them.

“Arthur, forgive me, for I must intrude on this private conversation.” Severus kept his face stern trying to impress on the man the words he was saying. “Your son made choices that were terrible and had rather unsightly consequences. I can say with absolute confidence that there was not a singular thing you could have said or done to him to make him not make these choices. In fact, had you made the attempt to interfere or force him to change his ways, it could have turned out much _worse_.”

The five seated there— Potter, his wife, Arthur Weasley, Draco and Viktor— were all staring at him, and he inclined his head at them. “I have experience with these matters, both when it comes to making poor choices when I knew better and also being the one to have suffered under the poor choices of others. You cannot hang your entire career of fatherhood on Ronald, Arthur. He _knew_ better, you taught him better, and he chose what he wanted despite that fact.”

Arthur Weasley sat for a moment like he’d been struck with a stunning spell, eyes blinking, but Severus could see that the man was considering his words. “I suppose you might be correct, Severus, but, that does not change the fact that I feel like there should have been more I could have done.”

“There will _always_ have been more you could have done. But you cannot do anything about that now. None of us can.” He said pointedly. There was no way to change the past, Severus knew that because if he could have, he would have a million times over and for a million different reasons.

Viktor interjected. “But, ve can be here for Hermione now, and make sure zat zhis never happens again?”

“Yes, that is true, Viktor.” Severus nodded and turned back toward Arthur. “I am confident that Hermione does not blame you.”

It was clear Arthur did not agree with that sentiment. “She should. I could have saved her from all this heartache.”

He understood that thought process, as many times since everything had come to light, he had thought the same thing. “As could I, but lingering on that serves no one, Arthur. Surely you have much more to look forward to in the future,-” Severus gestured to Ginny’s midsection with a flick of his hand. “—than to linger in the past where you cannot make changes.”

His forlorn eyes brightened as he looked at his daughter. For a moment, the doting and the often outlandish man looked like himself. “I do, but it will still bother me.”

“Dad, like I said, it’s not your fault and it is going to be okay.” Ginny said, taking her father’s hands in hers. “Professor Snape is right, you’ve got to stop thinking you could have done more, because you can’t go back and fix those changes. It isn’t going to help anyone if you keep blaming yourself. It won’t help you, or Hermione, or _even Ron_. It will only eat at you.”

Severus’s eyebrows rose up at hearing the young woman so earnestly agree with him. Even with the increased friendliness with the Potters in the past few months, it still surprised him from time to time.

The conversation was cut short by the Judge speaking up. “I am ready to deliver sentencing, please return to your seats.”

The air seemed to thicken with his words, the weight of the fact that a man’s life or death was about to be decided taking up all the free space in the room. The Potters and their father turned forward, and Severus glanced toward Hermione. She was leaning on the desk with her hands clasped in front of her lips. The way she was sitting gave away her nerves to him as if she was holding a sign saying she was anxious. He was ready with a panic puff if she appeared she was going to need one.

The room shifted focus to the Judge as he began to speak with a finality in his tone. “I, Judge Heath Merriweather, Member of the Wizenemgot and an official judge for the Ministry of Magic, sentence Ronald Bilius Weasley to fifteen years in Azkaban for Attempted Murder in the first degree.” 

Hermione let out an audible cry of relief, and it drew Severus’s attention. Her hands were cupped over her mouth as she paid attention to the Judge. Her react seemed to stir up whispers in those watching.

He continued, glancing at Weasley, who was shaking his head disappointedly. “Following those fifteen years, you will be released — dependent on your mental state — to St. Mungos or to the probationary office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where you will serve 10 years of probation. If you violate the terms of your probation, you will serve the remainder of your sentenced probation in Azkaban.” 

“This is shite,” Weasley hissed. “You are only giving her what she wants.”

The other Auror, who had not left the side of the cage, turned and obviously glared at the man. “If you cannot be quiet while his honour is speaking, you can be silenced.”

Judge Merriweather frowned, flipping another page over. “You will also owe restitution to the victim in the sum of 15,000 galleons, as is the maximum penalty. Until that is owed, any earnings you may gain while in Azkaban or on probation are subject to garnishment. That is my final ruling in this matter. I call this court to close and you all are dismissed. Please return Mr Weasley to Azkaban.”

The Judge rose from his seat and left out of the door that was behind the bench. 

As soon as the door closed, the two Aurors moved to remove Weasley from the courtroom. Severus stood up, pressing his way to return to Hermione’s side when the young Weasley began to shout.

“I should have fucking killed you. Then they would have had no choice but to give me the Kiss. You have to fucking ruin everything, Hermione.”

Reflexes had his wand in his hand, at his side. If Weasley made an attempt to go after Hermione, Severus was to hex him into the next century. Behind him, Severus heard, rather than saw Viktor jerk to his feet and be pulled back to his seat by his fiance Draco. Auror Lashey eyed Severus up and down as if he was determining if he was going to be a problem or not, while the aurors behind him handled the guilty party.

Auror Thomas jerked Weasley up, almost off of his feet. “Oi, none of that.”

“ _Silencio_.” The other Auror said with a lazy flick of his wand toward the redhead. From that point until the point that Weasley was behind the closed door, the room was tense, wondering if another incident between these two was going to unfold.

As soon as the door was shut, Auror Lashey moved to the side, letting Severus move past him.

Severus made his way to Hermione and Kendrick Greengrass at the table that they were gathering their things from.

“Mr Greengrass, congratulations on another winning case,” Severus said, nodding politely. 

Greengrass acknowledged him with a smile, shuffling forms into a briefcase. “Mr Snape. I imagine the congratulations belong to the young lady next to me, but I thank you regardless.”

“Hmm, yes, I believe you are correct.” Severus faced Hermione, lifting a brow. “Congratulations Hermione—how are you feeling?”

Hermione moved around Mr Greengrass, stepping up beside him as she sighed. “I didn’t expect to feel this tired. I feel like I’ve run a marathon and I’ve done hardly anything at all.”

Without hesitation, Severus took her hand in his, drawing her closer to him. The fatigue was clear on her face, and he knew that his plan to take her out to dinner tonight was unlikely to be fulfilled. “I assume then dinner is off the table for tonight.”

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, her brow furrowed. “Not necessarily. But I would like to go home and rest for a bit.”

It was a better response than he had expected. “Then that is what we shall do. Are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” Hermione agreed, squeezing his hand before turning to her barrister. “Thank you, Kendrick, for everything.”

The older Slytherin smiled at her and nodded. “It was my pleasure and I do hope that you take me up on my offer, Hermione. You would make a wonderful barrister.”

Severus glanced at the man. He’d not been aware that Greengrass had offered Hermione a job. Not that it should have surprised, the way she had done her research for both her cases and the way she could argue might have led anyone to conclude she would be an excellent lawyer.

“I’ll think about it. I promise,” Hermione answered, smiling at him.

Severus inclined his head as he bid the man farewell. “Have a good day, Mr Greengrass.”

“You as well, Mr Snape.” The man said, closing the leather case with all the forms gathered from the table in it.

“In together, out together,” Hermione whispered as she took the lead, still holding his hand. 

Severus did not have the same reservations now about the room that he’d had upon entering it. Yes, it still made him uncomfortable, and the farther he got from the cage the better he felt. He didn’t have to think about the oppressive feeling that he’d end up in it. Navigating through the groups of people who were all expressing their congratulations to Hermione, they made their way toward the atrium. Once they were out of the doors, a pressure left Severus’s shoulders, and he exhaled the last of the strain of being in that room as they moved past those who had already exited the courtroom before them.

A thin lanky young man, with a bright boisterous smile, mousy brown hair skipped out in front of Hermione. Severus looked him over and sighed. It was Dennis Creevey, the Daily Prophet’s newest reporter. The young man had gone a long way from being the smallest in his class, as he was nearly able to look Severus directly in the eyes.

He was exuberant as he spoke, a quill clenched in his fingers. “Miss Granger, do you want to make a statement about today’s verdict.”

“Not at this time, I just want to go home and process it all,” Hermione offered him with a weary but amused smile.

The young man looked up at him expectantly. “Professor Snape?”

Severus tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at his former student. “Mister Creevey, do I _look_ as if I have something to say about what happened today?”

“Er, uh, no, sir.”

It seemed that he could still be intimidating whilst holding Hermione’s hands. She hadn’t ruined his image that much, thankfully. Even if it wasn’t Rita Skeeter, the foul taste for anyone in the press was not something he was likely to get rid of anytime soon.

Severus nodded at Creevey. “Very good. Now, let Miss Granger and I pass on without your questions, and _when_ she is ready to speak the press _she will_.”

Dennis Creevey took a jerky step to the side to let them pass. “Yes, yes Sir.”

“Severus, don’t frighten him.” Hermione sighed, looked up at him.

Severus gave her an unimpressed expression as she turned back to the reporter. “Dennis, I know you want to know what is going on, and I will give an interview, only not today.”

The excitement was back in his voice. “Can we get an exclusive before Witch Weekly?”

“We will see,” Hermione offered noncommittally.

Dennis grinned at her. “Thanks, Hermione.”

“Shall we?” Severus gestured in the direction of the floo network and their key home. He was starting to feel uncomfortable with so many people around them and all wanted to talk to them about Weasley’s sentencing.

Hermione agreed. “Yes, please.”

Severus took the lead now, clearing a path with an air that said he was not interested in speaking to anyone.

“Hermione!” A woman’s voice called out and Hermione jerked his hand, stopping to turn around.

Romilda Vane, with her photographer in tow, were making haste in their direction. It seemed that they were going to have to speak to both of the major publications before they would be allowed to devise a complete exodus. At least Severus did not have the same dislike for Vane. Vane was trying to turn her paper into something that resembled an honest news outlet. Severus scanned around in an attempt to prevent anyone else from trying to speak to them while the two spoke.

Hermione let his hand go so that she could give the woman a hug.

“You were brilliant,” Romilda breathed out after they separated.

Hermione pushed her hand through her hair. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. Are you ready to give a statement about it?” The reporter at heart Vane asked her.

Severus shook his head at Vane.

“No, not yet. I just want to go home and rest, it’s been a long day already,” Hermione explained, her hand finding its way back into his.

Vane looked at them both and smiled. “Understandable.”

His witch returned the smile and started to walk away. “I will catch up with you later Romilda.”

Severus let her take the lead if it meant they would make it to the fireplace sooner.

“Alright, get some rest love, and I’ll be waiting for your owl,” Vane called after them, turning back away from them as they departed. 

Between the two of them, they were able to pass to the fireplace without another interruption. Severus tucked his arm around Hermione tightly as she dropped the powder, sending them through the green fire home.

  
  


The quiet and absence of others in the library stood comparatively to the din and crowd they had just been. Severus let Hermione go as they stepped into the room. Taking a seat in his chair, Severus began the task of removing his boots, first unbuttoning the row of buttons at his ankle.

“It is _really_ over.” Hermione’s voice held a tone of disbelief.

Glancing up, he saw that she stood scarcely out of the fireplace. “If you are referring to the trial, then yes, appears that way.”

Her eyes took on a distant look as if she were reflecting deeply. It was understandable that she would have a lot to process after the proceedings of the morning. This case was something slated to last the entire week, and with one motion, it had ended before the afternoon even crept in. 

Removing the first boot, he moved on to the second as she remained in place, contemplating something. It wasn’t until he stood to put his shoes by the door that Hermione’s gaze centred.

“Will you laugh at me if I want to take a nap after all that?” She quizzed with a bemused tone of voice.

Severus shook his head, turning to her. “No, in fact, a nap may do you some good.”

She closed the space between them, a smile lifting the corner of her lips. “Thank you, Severus, for _everything_ , for what you’ve done for me through all this. If, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think I ever would have been able to stand up to him.”

He snorted and shook his head. Severus did not feel as if he had done anything more than remind her of who she was, reminding her of the power of the Brightest Witch of her Age.

She tilted her head, eyebrows raised against the nonverbal argument the was already rising against her words.

“Hmm, I suppose that has some truth to it. You are welcome.” Severus relented, not willing to argue the fact that she was the one who did the hardest parts, he was merely there to support her.

With a triumphant smile, she kissed his cheek. “Want to come and lie down with me?”

It sounded enticing, even if he was not the sort to sleep during the day. At least, not anymore. But Severus had planned on attending to few tasks when they’d returned home, and if he allowed her to seduce him into the soft warmth of their shared bed, he might not rise later to care for the things that had to be done. “I actually need to check on a few things before the end of the day.” 

“Oh…” The smile deflated.

Severus twisted his lips. “However, I will join you as soon as I am done. The brew for the meeting with The Council must be distilled today, and I need to do a few things in my lab for my associate that I was going to do tomorrow. If I do it today, then I have nothing to do tomorrow, and we can finish the second bedroom if you feel up to it.”

He had every design in place to have that room as an office for Hermione before the week was out, even more so now that they would not be in the Ministry of Magic all week. While she didn’t seem to have the same eagerness that he did for the project, she had already talked about what she would like to do with the room. 

Hermione seemed to be weighing her options. “Alright. I’m going to take a hot bath and then go lie down,” She explained, moving around him.

“When did the bath become a part of this nap?” He asked her, turning his head to watch her walk toward the hidden door to the stairs.

She gave him such a cheeky grin as she checked over her shoulder. “When you decided to do work today.”

He shook his head. “Reasonable enough.”

Turning toward the kitchen, Severus began to consider which task would be prudent to start first. If he began the distilling, he would have to monitor it to ensure it remained at the same temperature. It would give him room to perform the requested adjustments to the Tension Toffee.

“Severus,” Hermione’s voice broke his thoughts, and he turned around to see her peeking around the open arch into the kitchen. Her dark honey eyes were concerned.

Taking a step toward her, wondering if something had happened, he responded. “Yes?”

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth before she asked, “Can we go see Alexander tomorrow?”

He halted in his approach. The emotions he’d experienced in the courtroom reared back to life, the indignance and hurt he felt on Hermione’s behalf. Swallowing back the ball of bile and rage that had clambered up to his throat at the thought of Weasley’s indifference, he nodded. “Of course, I will go with you whenever you wish.”

The forlorn trepidation on her face lessened, and she seemed to swallow something back as well. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words left his lips with an earnest desire to ease the suffering that she was currently experiencing. She left him again and his thoughts were now shaded with the feelings the exchange had resurrected. 

Exhaling, Severus made himself a cup of tea before he took ascended the stairs. While he heard her in the bath, he changed into his Muggle attire and then descended into his lab. 

A massive cauldron sat over a shielded fire along the stone wall. When Severus removed the stasis, the pungent smell of the potion invaded the air. It was the second iteration of the potion that had saved their lives when they faced Darcy Harkness and his bride. Severus had been adjusting and tweaking it since the meeting with Sanguini and had moved it to the far wall so that Skeeter would have no chance of interfering or tampering with the brew should something go awry.

Stirring twice counterclockwise with a silver ladle, it had the thickness it needed to be able to distil it and bring it down to the purest form. Severus focused on his work, trying to let the art of potions dull the anger he felt. He spent the better part of an hour working with the potion. That was of course while he was working on what George Weasley needed him to do. 

The young man had submitted their work to the Ministry to be considered for patents that bore both of their names. While at first Severus had forced George promise he would never be named as the one who worked on the project, as time passed, he realized this was not prudent of him. These were concoctions that could cause a great deal of change and if he did not claim the work as his own, then any crackpot potioneer could claim to be the supplier for Weasley, and he would be forced to reveal himself regardless. This way no one else could take these legally and replicate them, and if they wanted to be supplied with them, then they would have to go to George Weasley for them and by proxy himself.

It was nearly two hours since they’d been home before Severus was finished in the lab. The potion was distilling, which was a tedious and lengthy process, but was at a stage it could do it on its own without his supervision. The toffee recipe had been tweaked and a sample of it was left cooling to be shipped out to Weasley later. Severus set everything in his lab to status, took his gloves off and left his work behind. Nothing no longer needed immediate attention and there was a witch—his witch—having a lie-in and waiting for him.

The house was warm, much warmer than his subterranean lab. He checked that the ground floor was locked up before he climbed the stairs. The door to their bedroom was cracked open and through that crack, he could see the soft silhouette of Hermione’s sleeping form.

He stopped in the doorway, watching as her shoulders moved with her breathing, her snores announcing that Morpheus had claimed her before he had arrived. A warm pressure took up a place in his chest, it was not painful or uncomfortable, in fact, it was the opposite. It carried the feeling of contentment through his veins. For several heartbeats he admired her, revelling in the knowledge that she’d chosen him and that never again would she suffer as she had before. 

Opening his dresser, he withdrew more comfortable clothing and took care to be quiet as he changed. Severus did not want to disturb her sleep, at least, not until he was climbing into bed with her. Flicking his wand, Severus cast a cooling charm over the bed, as it was warmer up here than it was on the ground floor. 

Hermione uttered a sighing sound in her sleep, adjusting so that her arm was tucked under her pillow as she rolled to her stomach. She was topless again, the sheet thrown over her showing bare shoulders and a narrow expanse of her back. She’d come so far, from the woman that would not even allow her injuries to be witnessed to now sleeping in almost her all under with him.

Then again, if he thought about it, they both had come incredibly far. They were here in his home, now their home, together and in love. He was in love with her and had been able to brazen say as much where others could hear him. How much could change in nine short months amazed him.

Shifting the sheet so that he could also slip underneath of it, Severus carefully settled onto the mattress. Rolling toward her, he slid his hand across her back before pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

She twitched and snored again, and Severus chuckled as he got comfortable. Her wild mane obscured her from his vision and Severus gently grazed his hand through it, mindfully pulling away from any tangles that would catch and wake her. 

With the trial out of the way, he knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter for them: one no longer overshadowed by her ex-husband possibly coming to ruin everything they’d worked so hard for.

With an unexpected yawn, Severus rested his head on his cooled pillow, his hand resting on the small of her back, where he could feel her breathing under his hand. Before he knew it, he was drifted off to the halls of sleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought a lot about how this was going to pan out. I know many may have wanted him to have the Kiss or a life sentence, but with things I have planned in the future, this was the best outcome.
> 
> Speaking of future plans, Peculiar will be coming to end sooner than you might think. I have plans to take many of the future events and put them in a sequel, since this is such a long story. So when the ending does end, don't fret, there will still be more to come. I suspect I have about 15 chapters more before the end.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos and well wishes. I love your comments, they brighten my day, from the smallest heart emojis to the paragraphs long comments.


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